The Supernatural Effect
by Gothamite12
Summary: It's the start of senior year and the McCall pack desires nothing more than to blend in with the crowd but when new people and old acquaintances pop up, they're forced to juggle supernatural drama, secrets, and lies. Alliances are formed, relationships are broken and there are trails of dead bodies piling up. [Stiles x OC] Please check it out.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**A|N: Since we've established I suck at summaries. I promise this isn't some tedious Teen Wolf retell. Stiles + OC, slow burn.**

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 _Prologue.  
_ **06 | 06** **th** **| 2006.**

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"Eva! Ava! Stay away from the edge!" A middle-aged blonde woman shouted to be heard over the intensified slaps of howling wind.

The slender lady pulled her crème-shawl over her shoulders and watched her two kids skip ahead of her, singing audibly as their vibrant denim outfits contrasted amongst the murky colors of the dark forest path. Their blithe amusement engulfed the air as they pranced further down the trail.

"Girls!" She scowled in a stricter tone.

"We're only playing leapfrog!" Eva responded, crouching in her brown dress. Her yellow ribbon flapped in the tangles of her curly brown hair.

Ava vaulted over her sister's back and splashed mud into her blonde hair. "Yeah, mommy!"

"Well, I'd prefer if you didn't dirty your clothes, we have to look presentable for Mr. Hale. Come back, please."

The sisters giggled at the name and weaved through the trees to get back to their mother, the pair of them clutching a hand to hold.

For the past week, the weather had been unstable, so it was a nice change to see the precipitation diminish and hear the low roars of thunder subside. They strolled through the area at a relaxed pace. They listened to the birds that sang and watched the trees that danced in the settling breeze. The visible mass of gray clouds was the only thing that still lingered in the sky. _Not bad, considering it wasn't entirely summer._

Malory turned back when Ava let go of her hand and froze in her tracks. The child's eyes drifted to a three-story abandoned house that peeked out from behind the tipsy deciduous trees. The abode looked shuddered on the premises, waiting for sunlight to warm its weary walls. The rooftop was home to worms, moldy leaves, half-eaten acorns and it appeared as if the middle was about to cave in. There was grunge lined across the windows, and the area seemed to have a sinister sensation that made her skin crawl.

She ran a hand through her daughter's straightened and wrapped her in a comfortable cuddle. "I know it's a little bit unkempt, but I promise after I talk to Peter, we'll leave."

The twin glanced up to her mother, a hint of indecision in her glistened orbs. "You promise?"

"I promise. I'll even take you and Eva to that parlor we passed on the way, maybe get some ice-cream, with lots of chocolate chips and sprinkles?"

"Really?!" Ava's eyes widened with delight that was wholesome and analogous to the aura of a newborn baby. "Can I get blueberry ice-cream?"

Mal nodded and repositioned the flower crown on Ava's head. "Anything you want." She grinned and embraced the squeeze her youngster gave her.

"Hey! Look what I can do!" Eva screeched in exhilaration, cartwheeling on the platform boardwalk of the Hale residence.

"Get down. You might hurt yourself!" Malory sighed and walked over in an attempt to cease Eva's hyperactivity.

Ava gazed down at her combat boots realizing her shoelace was untied. She bent down, tied the lace, and made two loops but before she could stand, she gasped at the colorful butterfly that landed in the soil inches away. Ava observed the delicate creature in awe, forewings glimmering with sparkles. She laughed at the way it wiggled and expanded. When the insect slowly leveled its head and flapped its large spotted wings hysterically, Ava absentmindedly reached out to touch the rhopalocera, but before making contact, she fell on her knees, startled by earsplitting cacophony.

 _Boom!_

The mass of smoke made it impracticable to breathe, and the scorching fire that gyrated around the landscape made it difficult to see. The child lifted her head in search of her mother, but the only thing she discovered was a catastrophic horror scene.

Dizzy, hurt and scared, she called out. _"Mommy?!"_ But when she saw the Hale house had exploded into pieces – tears filled her eyes.

The house detonated. It shattered power lines, knocked down trees, swallowed Eva, and tossed Malory ten feet into the air.

The nine-year-old would never forget how she felt when she saw a tree branch that pierced right through her mother's stomach, blood instantly pooling from her lips. All color left her body pale and shriveled. She was cold to the touch when Ava threw a hand on her forehead and begged her to wake up. Her eyes twitched before staying open – revealing that was the last time she'd ever see daylight.

Ava would always remember screaming and kicking at the paramedics who carried a limp, lifeless body. Yelling at the firefighters and the deputies who drowned out her cries as she ran into her uncle's arms. Her purity vanished when the white double doors of an ambulance closed and drove away, leaving a massive hole in her heart.

That was the only haunting memory that stuck with her as she stepped off the plane and onto her home soil of Beacon Hills.

After departing at a young age and leaving the damage behind – Ava Cassadine had returned home.


	2. Chapter 2: Beacon's Intricacy

**A|N: Rating: T-M. [Language+adult scenes etc.]  
** **AN also at the bottom.**

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 **09 | 07** **th** **| 2015.**

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Leave it to the weather of Beacon Hills to disappoint, not only Ava Cassadine but also any new person in town. It had become far colder and gloomier before the day had begun, but Ava knew better than to anticipate anything positive from a state she hadn't step foot in, in over nine years.

The blonde sat on the passenger's side in the black SUV, as the driver cruised into the first parking space he located. She cracked her knuckles, examining the crowd of students who slithered through the main entry of the local high school, clearly exhibiting signs of anxiousness. "I think I should have drunk a couple of beers to calm my nerves." She exhaled. "I'm _so_ not ready."

Her alleged joke came out the wrong way, but despite how it sounded; the driver still chuckled. "Don't sweat it champ; nothing has really changed."

 _Except her._

Psychically, Ava was no stranger to the town. She memorized all the stores, shortcuts, and whatever else Beacon had to offer as easy as the alphabet. Realistically, she was a different person, one who fell out of tune with everything when she left.

In 2006, Beacon endured one of its most notorious tragedies – the Hale fire. When days of investigation tumbled into weeks, Ava's gut feeling oozed foul play, which the Cassadine's and the eight other Hale members were targeted and burnt to a crisp by an arsonist for whatever sickening reason. Weeks later, the coroners concluded that the fire was a calamity. After hearing the news, she succumbed to grief. Who wouldn't be riddled with guilt if they were the only person who escaped unharmed?

Seemingly, moving to Massachusetts to live with her grandmother after the tribulation was the perfect decision to rebuild Ava's life. In the beginning, her upbringing was rocky. It took years for her to discover herself, to get a sense of direction, to grow comfortable in her own skin. Once she did, everything else fell in line like a pack of dominoes. Unfortunately, the luxury dwindled when an empty pill bottle laid in the lap of her lifeless guardian, forcing her to return to the only relative she had left, her dad's brother. According to her mother, Paul Cassadine died prior to his daughter's birth.

"What if people recognize me?" Ava felt apprehensive being back in town. She didn't want to be labeled the-orphan-who-lived to tell the tale of the eminent fire. Recognition led to whispers and whispers led to pity.

"You know I don't condone violence, but I can beat them up for you."

Ava smirked. James D. Naughton was a 220-pound man. His black hair contained gray streaks that were combed back to reveal his firm, radiant face as it commended his killer green eyes. He was lean, muscular, and unapproachable to most, but frankly, he wouldn't maim a fly.

Ava clacked open the door and exited from the shaded jeep into the dawning sun. She ducked down into the window view and bent forward when James rolled down the shotgun window. "Make some friends, pay attention in class, and stay out of trouble. Good luck today, okay? Be good."

"I will," The girl parted her vision from the bystanders and gave the man one last smile. "Thanks, Uncle J." She stalked away from the van with a wave and looked over her shoulder to see him reverse the vehicle before he sped off with a wink.

The senior twirled around to examine the school building that had now become her second home. She took a small step forward, but her courage of moving her feet further died when she stopped to gander at her attire. Courtesy of Armani, the teen, wore a black cotton blouse, white jeans and pulled an Elvis on the footwear – blue suede shoes. Her hair resembled the length of Dracula's cape, making it easy to interlace into waterfall braids, and the blue shades over her head gave her an extra pep in her step.

"Get out the way bootleg Swanepoel!" A red head whizzed past her, nearly decorating her pants with his drink. Gravity dragged her jaw down at the boy's remark. _At least someone was enthusiastic about going back to school, though she couldn't fathom why._

Ava took a firm step and told herself she could do this, and she did. She neared the sidewalk and marched up the school steps, ignoring the breeze that bounced her hair. Her confidence multiplied with each stride. Her hips swayed from side to side and to her luck; the stoppers prevented the doors from closing – she was a tad mysophobic. After successfully overlooking the foyer, the girl aimed to descend the stairs, but when a clique of rowdy jocks blocked the way, she tensed. Call her swift, but she knew they were trouble when she walked in.

"Excuse me." She mused politely.

The person in her view sneered, and licked his lips like a predictable frat boy. He had a sturdy physique with chocolate brown hair gelled to perfection. His eyes were blue, and he possessed an intense gaze that would've knock anyone out effortlessly. It was then, Ava promptly identified him.

Jackson Whittemore, the 4th-grade rich kid who never missed a chance to bedeck her hair with paint during art class. His name was Jackson, but Ava referred to him as Jerkson.

"Matt, humor me."

"We have a 36..7..11 on our hands." A jock bellowed, inspecting Ava. She didn't know him – perhaps a new dimwit minion acquired over the years. "Hey J, I think you scored a Mary."

Perplexity crept on Ava's face, all she wanted to do was pass, and they restricted the way to discuss a bunch of useless numbers. What did any of that have to do with her? She didn't know.

"What? My name isn't Mary, and you didn't score anything with me; I'm not a lottery ticket." Her calm demeanor couldn't surpass the irritation in her tone.

Jackson shifted. "I have dibs on all newbie's that wanna rock my world." His index finger brazenly caressed her cheek; she brushed his hand away and didn't hide her repugnance, understanding the numbers meant body measurements. What she should've done was slap the smug grin off his face by any means necessary, but she promised Uncle J she'd abstain from trouble.

"Wait, don't I know you?" He snorted.

Ava cut in before he finished. "One, I'm not one of your weekly bimbo's. Insult me again, and I will get someone to break a bone in your body. Two, rock your own world it's why you have two hands. Or get a friend to do it; I bet they like kissing your ass."

Jaws dropped, and shocked murmurs infiltrated the halls, leaving Ava with a victory grin. Jackson grumbled, and he and his crew finally stood back to free the pathway. _Looked like Jerkson needed a broom to sweep up his broken arrogance._

Ava progressed downwards with her head held high, but the moment took a 360-degree turn when she lost her balance and fell, knocking over someone. The bully and his posse howled with hilarity at the opportunity. Ava ignored them and fixated on the groaning victim on the floor.

"Oh, my God! You must be in pain. Are you in pain?" The stranger rambled and rose to his feet, rubbing his back. "Cause I am...a little, and you must be since your fall was harder. Then again you fell on top of me." He winced.

"I'm so sorry." Ava's apology was brisk but genuine while she reached for her sunglasses.

"It's okay." He smiled goofily at Ava who furrowed her eyebrows at his comment. He took notice of his words and his face went pale. "I mean...it's not fine that you fell, but it's fine you fell on me rather than the ground. Well, not I'm saying–."

"Ahem." A boy with short black wavy hair cut off the babbler with a nudge that well-nigh sent him flying five feet into the air.

"Uh-, uh sorry." He stuttered. "Are you okay?"

Ava nodded, unable to communicate. Everyone's chatter faded, as her eyes bored into his, taking in his image. His hair was dark but lustrous, and it could have almost been mistaken for black. His toned figure complimented his towering height, and there was a twinkle of something in his mesmerizing sultry brown eyes. Something that indicated there was much more to him than his quirky, fumbling side. They gravitated towards each other without awareness, and he looked like he was about to say something until the bell over the P.A. captured everyone's attention. Groups around them dashed off in various routes and the tanned boy mumbled something to the honey-eyed guy before walking away. Ava painted on a smile, breaking away from the guy she crashed into. She didn't have a syllabus, so her next destination was the office.

 **[...]**

20 minutes elapsed and Ava was still sitting in the office without a timetable. If she were precise, then she'd say, another 10 minutes had passed before the school secretary, Marsha W Summers, had walked in, not even acknowledging her until she fake coughed.

Marsha forged a smile, sinking into her leather chair. "Principal Thomas Wilson will be with you shortly."

 _Was a 'good morning' too hard to say?_

Unimpressed by the administrator's stance, Ava nodded and pulled out a book from her bag to pass the time. It didn't last long when the door swung open, and somebody walked in, shuffling towards the desk.

"Good morning," Marsha greeted.

Ava rolled her eyes because she never got a salutation. _Unbelievable_.

"How can I assist you?" She continued, positioning her elbows on the table and steadied her chin in her hands.

"I've been assigned the wrong locker." The person's smile flared like the Caribbean sun.

"Take a seat pretty eyes, I'll get right to it." The assistant gushed, batting her eyelashes, scurrying like she needed to fulfill a life's mission.

A tall, dark-skinned man in a gray suit then appeared in the room, striding over to Ava. "Morning. Sorry to keep you waiting, miss..." The principal voiced his contrite and read the syllabus in his hand. "Cassadine. Let me walk you to your first class." The authority figure nodded to the guy with the wrong locker before exiting the room.

The journey was anything but quiet, what with Thomas quizzing Ava about her academics and personal interests.

"I saw your transfer file, you're quite intelligent, though it seems like you struggle a bit with Math." He said, fixing his cuffs.

Ava's grades fluctuated between A's and B's. When it came to numbers, she was like The Great Wall of China. Simple Mathematics she could solve, but Equations, Calculus, and Quantitative? There was a better chance of surviving World War II.

"Don't get me wrong. I've tried. I really have, but it's like Y2+P = x? I mean come on Math, no one even gets your question, and now you want me to find your x? I'm only 18 I'm not a private investigator, find your own x."

"Touché." Wilson chortled, pushing up his glasses with his index finger. "What do you deem to be your top three qualities?"

"I'm fast with my hands. I'm a humble debater, and..I'm a junk food activist."

"Is that so?" He held the staircase door open while they climbed to the upper level of the school.

She nodded. "I get it, if we work out, we'll stand better chances with longer health, fewer risks of cancer, and all that stuff. But to deny me my rights to eat a good ol' Hershey bar once in a while is very unpatriotic. I'm ready to partake in a protest; I just can't help but to be a victim of these circumstances."

She grinned innocently at Wilson who genuinely laughed aloud, holding his stomach. Seemed like he had a great sense of humor.

"How was the transition from home to here this morning, no trouble at all I presume?"

"Nope." It wasn't like she got rated by a bunch of jocks, knocked someone down, or was about to start class 40 minutes late, but hey, nobody died. "No trouble."

They sauntered into a full classroom of seated students. Thomas moved smoothly to converse with the History teacher, but Ava remained motionless, recognizing a bunch of faces from earlier. Some were witnesses of her fall. To avoid the awkward ogling and rising mutters, the only thing she could've done was stare down at her schedule. Her gratitude went to whatever force was in the sky, _Buddha, Prometheus or Yoda_ , when Wilson strode back in time to confront everyone.

"Class.." He began.

 _Please don't give an introduction._ She prayed. _Please._

"You're all familiar with each other, but we do have a few new faces this year, and this young lady is one of them. I'd like for you to do your best and make Ava feel welcomed."

 _Shit._

Being the new girl and getting an introduction was one thing, but an introduction after a ridiculous stunt was something else.

The room was hushed until somebody changed the dynamic. "Hey, Ava! Is your favorite season _Fall?_ "

The news of her incident perceptibly spread like lightning, since the laughter that erupted was ludicrously loud. Ava peered closer to see which jackass was going on her hit list. She huffed when she saw it was Matt, Jackson's main sidekick.

"Mr. Warden, be quiet before I haul you down to the office. Everyone else resume to your lesson." The principal turned to face Ava. "Find me if you run into any trouble or if someone is giving you trouble." He then departed.

Ava inhaled deeply, before scanning the room. There was a whole row of empty desks at the back, but Matt's condescending smirk splashed a wave of aggravation over her. So she occupied the first seat she saw, her back was to the class, her eyes had a clear view of the board, and the hallway was mere steps away. After an hour of reading about the 1950 Chinese invasion, two distant voices in the hall reeled in Ava's attention. When she was able to match a face to the voice, she perked up.

The boy she collided with stopped like his intuition told him to and raised his head, catching her gaze. His hand went up, hanging in mid air before he waved.

Ava returned the gesture. There was something familiar about him, she had no idea what it was, but oddly, she wanted to.

* * *

 **A|N: This story is AU and loosely based on S5 + other events from other seasons.**

 **[1] Here, the whole Beast of Gevaudan thing didn't happen with Mason, he's human.**  
 **[2] Jackson never went to England; after the entire Canima situation, he transformed back to human.**


	3. Chapter 3: Crime Watch

**A|N: Thank you so much for the follows | favorites | & reviews, it means so much. Remember this is slow burn, so Stava/Aviles interaction will start from chapter 5.**

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 _6:42 a.m._ Ava opened her eyes.

 _7:39 a.m._ She arrived at school.

 _8:01 a.m._ The glaring contest with Marsha ended.

It wasn't breaking news Ava had an indecent start yesterday, and maybe she could've enjoyed the rest of the day if her spare and lunch weren't wasted. Supposedly, Marsha had screwed up her registration last week, scheduling both History and Biology as her first-period class. During yesterday's free-leisure, according to the clerk, her timetable couldn't be fixed because 'the office system had a glitch.' On her luncheon, Marsha declared she was 'too busy,' and by the end of the day, she wasn't even there. Fortunately, complaining to Uncle J was the right move, one rapid phone call from him this morning had the problem fixed in no time, and the best part about it was? She never had to see Matt Warden's freaking face again.

Ava sailed down the hall in search of her new homeroom, yawning into the crease of her denim romper. She really had to make a mental note not to stay up until 1 a.m. watching _Supernatural_ again.

The sound of heels snuck up behind her, and before she knew it, an unidentified body blocked her from taking another step. Ava was ready to shut down whoever it was because dealing with Marsha for the morning was enough, until -

"Do I know you?"

A female voice cut into her inaudible rants.

Her armor of a satiric response and cold glare disintegrated at the sight of a 5 foot 3 strawberry blonde, heart pounding when she registered just _who_ was standing in front of her.

Oh gosh.

It was _Lydia_.

Lydia Martin.

Just like Jackson, Ava had encounters with Lydia due to the fact they were enrolled in the same elementary school. It seemed like only yesterday when she met the multitalented 8-year-old, who carried a delightful shine and a majestic vocabulary. They were never in the same class, but the green-eyed girl had always been a straight A student and naturally blessed with queen bee material since before she could walk. _Ava should know, they were best friends at one point._

However, how they met and why they stopped talking was a very different story for a different time. The only question was, did Lydia remember her?

"Hmm.." Lydia narrowed her eyes, pausing and neglecting whatever thought came to mind. "You're the new girl, Avery right? You publicly humiliated Jackson."

The answer was simple. No, Lydia didn't remember. Though she may have had a hunch the blonde looked familiar, she abandoned that theory and Ava couldn't help but to sigh in relief. She was so thrilled, she even forgot to correct her about her name _not_ being Avery. "Um, yeah.." Her voice was a little shaky. "He deserved it; he's a masochistic pig with crystallized hair, who doesn't know how to remove what's up his ass. I can't differentiate if it's the fingers of his airhead minions or a rotting stick, but either way.." She shrugged, smiling at the fact her confidence returned like an undelivered Yahoo mail.

Lydia's plumped, and glossy lips parted faintly at the blunt comment. Her eyes bounced around like she was checking a bar code on a food package and Ava didn't know whether to predict a praise or scowl. "Fashion sense and unlimited sass? I'm intrigued." Lydia cocked her head to the side and twirled her styled locks. "Cool outfit, and where did you get your bracelet? It's an absolute killer."

The jewelry piece was a white gold band laced with a few sparkling hearts and intriguing diamonds. It was a birthday present from Malory five days former to her death. She had kept it on ever since and never took it off, only excluding it from daily showers.

"Birthday gift." Ava tried not to sound insolent but the less detailed she was, the better. _Not a good time to have a mental breakdown._

"Classy." The girl shook her head with consent. "Anyhow, I'm Lydia, Lydia Martin." Her self-introductory screeched the same elegance and coolness it did ten years ago when they first met.

Ava, who didn't introduce herself officially, took that as her cue to insert humor. "I'm sure you already heard, my new name is knock-over-girl."

Lydia scoffed and abruptly looped her arm with Ava's, sashaying down the hall, as if they were sisters. "You'll live that down. Trust me, the dirt I have on some of these people would be enough for them to ditch class and hibernate in a hole for three years."

Ava's lips curved upwards. "I don't doubt it." Given Lydia's status, how could she? "Speaking of class, do you know where AP Biology is?"

Lydia awarded her a _duh_ look and recommenced stomping like she was part of New York's fashion show, leaving behind a dawdling Ava. The fact that she was being taken instead of told only meant one thing – they were in the same class, or their classrooms were not too far in distance from each other. When Ava managed to match the Martin girl's pace, they chitchatted throughout their jaunt, snubbing the staggers they earned from people who leaned against their lockers.

It felt good to know she possibly made a new friend/ex-acquaintance on her second day and while it sucked she couldn't say exactly who she was if her hand was forced then she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. Things were going to be tricky, but she couldn't deny, with Jackson and Matt around, hanging around Lydia was going to make the school year easier.

 **[...]**

"There's no _way_ you tackled her."

"And let the last limited edition of the Prada bag go?" Lydia mindlessly began retouching her makeup. "I was ready for jail."

Ava snickered and sipped the last of her Iced Tea. After Bio had ended, the two met up at the cafe and Lydia showed her what was _hot_ and _not_ by providing her with a school tour. The information was a lot to absorb but to cut a long story short; Ava learned the school's history with Lacrosse, shortcuts for classes, and who dated whom. In the end, they ended up eating at a bright brown picnic table outside on the premises that had a pleasant view of the field, granting them a chance to become more conversant.

"Who's the beau?" Lydia concentrated on applying mascara.

Ava glimpsed up from typing on her phone. "What?"

"You're texting. Must be someone important." Lydia grinned at the fact Ava was unaware how long her head had emerged in her phone. It also amazed Ava that Lydia was the first one to point it out, considering she never ripped her focus away from her makeup kit. "Is he a potential friend with benefits?"

"No, he's-."

She peeped through her Mac mirror, already dabbing pink lip-gloss like a beauty guru. "A booty call?"

"No!" She disclosed before her friend obstructed again. "I was _going_ to say it was my uncle."

"Uncle?" Lydia interluded, compressing her lips with a coy smirk. "Or _U_ _ncle_?"

They broke into hysterics about how outrageous the conversation became, but when a guy in a blue t-shirt and black slacks approached the table; their conversation lessened.

Relaxation dispersed on Lydia's face when she saw who it was. "Where's everyone? This place is quiet."

"Waiting for you? We agreed to meet. We have to.." The person stopped mid-sentence, diverting a glance from Lydia to Ava. He seemed like he wasn't able to fulfill what he was about to say which gave Lydia the idea to take it upon herself to conduct her version of a formal debut.

"We met in Biology, you've heard of her, right?" Lydia wagged her hand to Ava.

The visitor nodded before turning and transferring his devotion to her. "I'm Scott, pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." She placed him as the guy who elbowed the person she ran into.

Scott's welcoming beam receded as he looked up from his phone. "Do you mind if I borrow Lydia for a quickie? It's kinda urgent."

Lydia's eyes widened, and Ava did her best to withhold her laughter but failed.

"Second! I meant-," He turned sheepish. "I meant a quick second."

"Can't it wait?" Lydia frowned at Scott who said no and engrossed her in his grip – packing up her belongings.

"It's cool." Ava jumped to her feet, gathering her things. It was conspicuous Scott needed time with his friend, which was very understandable. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lydia. Nice meeting you, Scott."

The trio said their goodbyes and parted ways.

* * *

"Can you run the test again, _please_ check his file," Stiles begged his father. They were in the police division squabbling like turkeys about Theo Raeken. "His family moved to town when he was nine or ten and his sister died in an accident but it wasn't an accident, he murdered her, just like he did Pettigrew."

"Are you seriously sitting there telling me an 18-year-old boy killed Pettigrew, a 58-year-old bank teller? Are you insane?!" The sheriff massaged his temples. "Don't answer that."

"Dad, this kid is a werewolf."

"Your best friend is a werewolf, you're dating a were-coyote I still don't know what Kira is supposed to be, but when the flying monkeys come soaring through this station you will have my undivided attention, til' then just stay out of it!" Mr. Stilinski had more to say but received a phone call, and before he excused himself, he pointed his finger at Stiles. "Not another word, I gotta take this."

It wasn't a secret Stiles disliked Theo, he found him to be suspicious, shady, and scum-like. Last week Raymond Pettigrew, a local bank manager turned up dead in his home with a slashed throat. Stiles thought it was too much of a coincidence that as soon as Theo came to town, Pettigrew was murdered. When the police found Pettigrew's body, it reeked of Rabanne – Theo's favorite cologne.

"Maybe your dad is right." Malia assembled herself on a chair ledge. She had been quiet throughout their discussion and chose to speak up now. "Theo wouldn't be that sloppy to leave a body lying around."

"You don't find it highly concerning? We haven't had any supernatural deaths for months. This dude disappears for years, waltzes back into town and this happens." Stiles roamed back and forth unsatisfied, trying to conjure a hidden motive. "What if Theo is trying to send a message by killing Pettigrew?"

"What kind of message? To who?"

"To us because he knows we're onto him. To whatever werewolf-killing group he's in. I don't know; I wish I freaking did."

Malia zipped her mouth at his indignant grunt, sensing the stress around her boyfriend. For the last few weeks, they had been walking on eggshells around each other. After the dead pool and Malia finding out Peter was her dad, their interaction took a turn for the worst. Thanks to Melissa, they addressed the situation, but the comfortable atmosphere they once shared was gradually tiptoeing away like a thief in the night. "I understand your frustration but-,"

"But, we agreed to give people the benefit of the doubt. Remember?" Scott interjected, traipsing in and tucking his motorcycle helmet under his arm. Kira trailed in behind him.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Stiles yelled, not noticing the increase in his pacing. "We agreed to meet here for four not 4:02! You need an app to update your precision or something."

"Will you calm down? We're here, aren't we?" Scott retaliated.

"I'm calm, I'm..calm. So _calm_ that I notice Lydia isn't here yet."

"She hasn't been answering her phone." Kira chipped in.

Stiles looked at Scott. "I thought you were supposed to meet her at lunch and bring her back with you? What happened?"

Scott jumped out of the way just in time as Deputy Parrish dashed in with a suspect on handcuffs to put him on lockdown. "I tried, but her mom bumped into us and pulled her away."

"No one's heard from her most of the day and all you can say is, you tried? Wonderful, _just_ wonderful. Theo's probably hauling her through a pile of dirt in the woods as we speak! Dirt in her lungs – the wind through her ears – unable to scream, and if she does, it's probably a really low one, something that's so close yet far away!" Stiles exclaimed, fluttering his hands in the air like an Eichen House patient.

Lost for words, Scott raised his brows and rotated to Malia who was conversing with Kira. If he didn't ask now, he would never know. "How much Adderall did he-

Malia outstretched a hand and showed four fingers.

"Ah." Scott finished.

Stiles made a sour face at his best friend and put his hands on his hips. "You think I'm crazy, but I'm not. It could happen." His tone was sardonic. "Lovely."

"I _am_ lovely."

"You're lovely and-," He turned his head quickly looking for the voice that spoke when he saw Scott's lips weren't moving. "You're alive and late! I can kill you but also hug you!" Stiles commented, running over to Lydia, hands on her shoulders, checking every inch of her body to see if she was actually okay.

Lydia swung her shopping bag, staring at Stiles like he was on roofies. She whirled to face the other three calmer bodies in the room and was then informed on how much Adderall he ingested, she nodded in expectancy and turned to Scott crossing her arms. Scott smirked knowing she was about to refer to lunchtime, but like the others, he directed his attention to the Sheriff who just entered the room displeased. "Son, I thought I told you to keep this to yourself?"

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times but didn't say anything; his typical sarcasm would most likely antagonize his dad, and after the discussion they had about Theo? It wasn't a good idea. A clownish beam appeared on his face to ease the temperament, but he had little success when the Sheriff casually rolled his eyes and pointed to his office, where the gang tailed behind him, huddling around the desk. John went on to clarify the police department latterly retrieved camera footage from Pettigrew's neighbor. The video showed Theo cutting across the grass to Pettigrew's house, the time stamp indicating it was midnight. The footage had many rice grains, so it was barely visible, but 10 minutes later, the film showed Theo coming back with bloodstains on his sleeves. The sheriff stopped the video and zoomed in, acquiring a clearer vision.

"What does this mean?" Kira inquired.

"We have to figure out why he did it." Stiles voiced.

"We? Oh no. You kids are not getting involve-,"

"He could have done it for someone else. What would we do then?" Malia butted in before Stilinski could finish.

"I don't know yet, but if it is him..whoever it is, we'll make a plan...catch them in the act," Scott added, looking around the room. Most parties approved with a nod minus Lydia who was completely zoned out. "Lydia, you okay?"

"The fire.." Lydia muttered, eyes slightly ajar.

"What fire?" John was stumped as to why Lydia wasn't on the same page as her friends.

By the time she looked up, all ten eyes in the room, squinted, narrowed, and confused, were on her. "Uh. Nothing.."

The room went uncommunicative before someone spoke again.

"Kids, I appreciate your help, but I can't let you get involved, this is strictly-," Stilinski was cut off again, this time by his son.

"Yeah yeah, delicate evidence, private information, police business. Don't worry dad; we'll be careful."

The gang began exiting, leaving Stilinski to throw his hands up in the air completely defeated. He grumbled, wondering what he was going to say to the inhabitants of the town if confirmed, Pettigrew was killed by the Supernatural. Suicide? Rabies outbreak? Animal attack? He so desperately wanted to solve the case, but his contemporary decrease in sleep prevented him from creating logical thoughts. The man sighed, resting his head back on the chair.

 _Five minutes sleep._ He told himself.

Five minutes passed, and heavy snoring filled the room. John was finally getting the sleep he deserved, but if he knew it would cause him to miss the real clue that was yet to follow, he'd have stayed awake. Unaware of hitting the resume button on his computer, the video played on, and near the end, someone emerged from the Preserve bushes with a knife.


	4. Chapter 4: The Polite Stranger

"So.."

"So..."

"You didn't tell me what your first two days of school were like."

"Um," Ava sunk in the clinics comfiest chair, arms intercrossed over her chest. "It wasn't entirely inconvenient.."

Deaton's eyebrows shot up to his hairline; his chuckle insinuated he knew she was lying. "I've known you most of your life Ava; I can tell when you're troubled."

Yep, Ava knew Beacon's infamous veterinarian – after all, he was childhood friends with her mother. They attended the same school, and both excelled at being master vets. Despite her working around the country and him staying in the Hills, they sustained a great friendship. The death of Malory devastated Alan to the core, but it didn't stop him from keeping in touch with Ava after she was shipped to Massachusetts. He sent her birthday presents, called for the holiday's, and once even mailed her a Caramel Cobbler pie. _Her favorite._

Knowing he wouldn't overlook their confab about her first two days of school; Ava recuperated her memory and explained everything that happened.

"You fell? On the first day?"

"Deaton!" She shrieked. It bemused her why he chose to comment on the worst event.

He pinched his nose bridge and fought the impulse to smile. "Alright, who was the person you knocked down?"

It then dawned on her she didn't know his name. What would she call him if they ever ran into each other again? _Knock over guy?_ _Mystery boy? Blue shirt dude?_

"I..didn't stick around to find out." Her statement came out more like an undertone.

"You _ran_ away?"

"No!" She scorned. "I had to get my syllabus, remember?" _Hello, shame. Good-bye, dignity._

"The tone of your voice says otherwise." He swayed his hand, beckoning her perseverance. "What are your classes like, what subjects?"

"Courses I can master with my eyes closed – Biology, a spare, English Lit, and Chem." She rose from the chair. Shoulders slumped at what she was about to say next. "Then there's Arithmetic's...a subject where even if I use a calculator I'll doom myself to an eternity of vanquish."

"I'm sure you won't do too badly." He vocalized, attempting to alleviate Ava's mind. She disagreed with a gesticulation like he was insane and moved closer to see him treating a broken bone of a sedated dog. The doctor evaluated its irises and injected it with liquid, vigilantly wrapping the injured leg in a blue cast. Rocky – the German Shepherd, opened his eyes and leaped up to lick his face, expressing a slob of gratitude. Literally.

Ava glanced at Deaton who gave her permission to pet the dog. She extended her arm, but the animal let out a startling sound and strained its neck to nip her. Sensibly alarmed, she revoked her hand, just in time. "What's wrong with him?"

"Huh." Deaton, also boggled at the recounter, thoroughly inspected the large canine a second time. "He's probably just feeling grumpy because of the pain in his leg. Would you ever be so kind to grab me the 5-milliliter needle from the back room?"

Ava inclined, happy to tread far away from Rocky who showed her his hazardous teeth. When she was out of vision, she emanated a powerful whiff of air, launching to complete Deaton's request. When she couldn't locate the kit, she hollered for him to join her in the search party. The backroom was meant to be a storage, but there were stacked boxes in the aisles and rows of empty cages bounding the cupboards from opening, making it instantly tougher to procure the items inside – like syringe needles.

"Looks like I'll have to continue this later." Deaton scrubbed a hand down the side of his face and looked at the clock –

10 minutes passed, and they were still empty-handed. The buzzer of the main entrance blared, leaving her and the vet to trade a, _who'd-be-here-so-early-look_. They stayed discreet when the door slammed shut, marking the footsteps that slugged across the floor.

"Deaton, where are you?!" Someone yelled out. "There's something wrong with Pettigrew's body!"

Ava's head spun in Alan's direction, wondering why some random person was telling him about a man that sounded like a Harry Potter character. Nevertheless, the bald man's gaze mounted over Ava's head after a while, carefully speaking his words with a pause. "I admire your assistance, but like I said," He technically flew to the exit, one foot out the door, one hand on his wristwatch. "I'll look for the syringe at a later time. You may leave, you shouldn't be late."

The need to protest washed over her when he didn't look her in the eyes, but she was smart enough to know she wouldn't get anywhere. Ava wasn't a curious cat by nature, but judging by his pronouncement, something was up. He may not have lied, but he was _definitely_ trying to camouflage something. Nevertheless, she shaded him out of the room and into the clearing, thinking she overstayed her welcome.

"Boys." Deaton cleared his throat, making the guests scramble up and hide whatever paper they were revising. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." He brought Ava forward by her shoulders, standing behind her as he spoke. "I befriended the mother of this lovely young girl years ago..and she'll be a helping hand here from now on. This is-,"

"Scott." Scott introduced himself before Deaton could say Ava's name. The pair interchanged amiable smiles, holding each other's gaze, both recalling the first time they spoke. _Nudging. Lunch table. Quickies._ "We've uh, we've already met."

Ava nodded to his words, but when her hues landed on the person next to him, her heart rate flared up like a tidal wave.

It was him!

The boy in the plain white t-shirt and dark brown jeans faintly slanted his head, moderately oblivious of how hard he shoved the paper in his hand into Scott's chest. His focus never wavered from the blonde, as he made his way around the silver table. Ava's eyes never left his either, the only thing was, she was a bit too stunned to say anything. "Uh..hi." He greeted, taking another step closer. He waited for her to speak, but she didn't. "I..I'm the guy you knocked down like a couple of bowling pins, but you knew that already." He pointed to himself, cheeks deepening with a bit of color. _This was it; she would finally know his name instead of having to leave her mind to wonder._ "I'm S–,"

 _'...Is it sick of me?_  
 _To need control of you?'_

And Ava cursed the moment when her phone decided to ring out, ceasing the guy who was seconds away from acquainting himself. _Seriously?_

A string of mute profanities stayed behind her closed lips as she probed in her bag before cutting off the ringing. All eyes were on her, and she was unable to apologize for what just happened, even more so, when Rocky began barking at her like he was possessed. She grabbed her bag, realizing if she didn't get a move on she'd be late for school. Deaton spoke up and thanked her for coming, reminding her to call him for her work schedule later on. He turned to Scott - beginning to jabber with him, leaving Ava to near the exit. She opened the door, and turned back for a split second and froze when the boy, whose name she didn't know, waved to her. He sighted her unreadable reaction and frowned, not understanding why she rushed out the door without saying goodbye.

If only he detected, he made her nervous – he'd have done things differently.

 **[...]**

"We use extraction in our daily duties, like making coffee. In Science, we use extraction to study certain features of any isolated chemical compound. Example, one would extract DNA to study its properties or gene structure. I want you to partner up because you'll be removing chlorophyll from a plant. You'll detail your procedure, wow your audience with creativity through PowerPoint, and answer any query I will throw your way." Ava's Bio teacher – Patricia Flemming proclaimed, standing in the center of the classroom. "It's worth 2% of your grade. Use the rest of the class to get started. You can find all your necessary equipment at the back. It's due the following Monday." Flemming didn't waste time to distribute the assignment papers and haul herself in her seat. One could only assume she had papers to grade.

Lydia eyed Ava, indicating they were partners. They made their way to the back and got the required apparatus, reconciling back in their chairs. The girls dived into the task, but less than 20 minutes later; they ended up fooling around, creating several catastrophes.

"Watch what happens when we add acid to this self-igniting cocktail." Lydia altered the rainbow infusion in front of them.

Ava stared intently at the contents but jigged back when the tender mix began to overflow, mounting from her chair, in fear of the consequences. It was little to none seconds before the glass beacon spewed with fizz and shattered, leaving the foul fluid to detonate like a volcano right as they took cover. What they didn't know was Ms. Flemming had been walking around the workstations, reviewing class involvement – so really when they ducked, it hit her straight in the face.

"AGH!" Flemming bawled.

Numerous gasps sounded the room, and Lydia and Ava froze in unison – eyes wide and locked on the green board ahead.

"What is this?!" She squawked with rage. The two were in such shock, they didn't dare breathe heavily. Who would take that chance with an angry 6 foot 2 growling teacher behind them? "If this desk isn't cleaned by the time I get back you'll be serving detention until 4!" She shouted. "Are we clear?!"

They nodded quickly, persisting quietness to the best of their ability. When Flemming left to go to the restroom, their giggles burst.

"Oh. My. God." Lydia choked through fits of laughter. "It looks like a piñata threw up on her."

Ava held her heart, trying to stifle herself from cracking up any further. "Still better than the cat woman outfit."

During Lydia's _hot_ and _not_ tour, there were event bulletins smeared around the white walls of the school. Last year, the students and staff faculty of Beacon were permitted to dress up for Halloween. Students had created their own unique suits, and when it came to the teachers, costumes ranged from vampires to witches, to ghosts to werewolves. Flemming, however, patently ditched looking in the mirror and elected to put her own spin on things when she showed up in an orange leather catsuit. The attire wasn't shoddy per se – it just suited a younger person. Patricia Flemming had the height of a giraffe, hair texture like a model, but face structure like the devil. To put it nicely, she looked like a man.

Patricia's visual graced their minds – sending them into a much frowned upon shiver.

"I've been perpetually scarred." Lydia dried the project materials and switched to drying the seats.

Ava aided by wiping the floor and the counter of their station. "You and me both."

"These books are drenched. Pass the paper towel."

The roll of paper towel was beside Lydia's opened purse when Ava pulled the roll closer; accidentally knocking over the bag, spilling some items on the ground. Picking up the large paper by her foot, she noticed a penciled sketch of a man and bold writing that read ' **Pettigrew**.'

A bell rung in her ears when the unconfirmed realization hit her. Pettigrew...the same man Scott mentioned when he bolted into the clinic earlier?

"Is that, is that Pettigrew? Why do you have a–,"

"Don't!" Lydia snapped, yanking the drawing from her hand. They stared at each other for a while before communicating. "It's...for research purposes." Lydia didn't realize the paper crumpled in her hands. When she did – she prudently tried to even it out, but gave up and crammed it back into her purse. "I'm going to get some more paper towel." Her smile was tight-lipped while she ambled out of the class with her bag glued to her side.

Confusion rained down on Ava as she resumed to cleaning the books. She didn't comprehend why everybody seemed to act unusual when Pettigrew's name was mentioned. _Who was this man? What was his story?_ She decided it was better not to be mixed up with things that shouldn't have concerned her. Eventually, Lydia returned with the teacher, and things were relatively silent until she somewhat apologized for flipping out. Biology had 40 more minutes to go, and Ava was sure of one thing, after what just happened, time was going to take its _time_ in passing.

 **[...]** **  
**

" _If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything_. Can anyone tell me who said this quote?"

Ava was miraculously floating through Lit, hearkening to Raul Mulberry preach about legendary authors. Two more classes to go and she'd have been done for the day.

"Samuel Clemens."

Everyone's heads whipped to the person who retorted from standing near the door of the classroom, shocking them but impressing Mr. Mulberry.

"...Yes. Also known as Mark Twain, that's right!" The professor presented his students with a break whereas he advised the newcomer to come in.

The individual twisted his concentration to what Raul showed him. Ava couldn't see what it was, but with common sense, she could only assume it was the course outline, and what the assignment was, for the authors they were currently learning about.

The teenager rolled her eyes at the gossip and giggles that came from the females in the front. She couldn't see the new kid's face, only his dark trousers and black sweater that outlined his white tank underneath, and his pair of matching shoes. She lowered her head, not comprehending the big deal and ignoring the desperate whistles from the gushing girls. The blonde kept her focus on her book and took pleasure in disregarding the approaching footsteps that suddenly stopped, a bigger shadow looming over her.

"Is this seat taken?"

Her answer was given in the form of a head-shake when she looked up to see the new student standing there with a smile. Not only did he have bulldozer biceps and a chiseled jaw, but he was also the same one who was assigned the wrong locker. The same one who got a _good morning_ from Marsha. _Okay, so maybe she would retract her previous comment about not getting what the big deal was._

Locker boy plopped down and placed his backpack on the back of his chair, winking at the girls who turned to fawn over him, blushing profusely. He turned back just in time to see Ava still looking at him. "What are you reading?" He slithered a hand on the back of his chair, moving closer when he saw Ava was reading instead of taking notes like the other students.

"Mystery novel." Her eyes were glued to the book as she spoke, shifting a little uneasy at his sudden closeness.

"Does this novel have a name?" He batted his blue eyes that so flawlessly defined his facial features.

"It's a secret."

"Victoria's Secret or Mary's secret?"

From her peripheral vision, Ava observed him burning a taunting smile into her side. Her focus on the novel decreased when he laughed. "Wait, how'd you know about that?"

"I was walking by when it happened." He shrugged. "Thought you were pretty courageous."

"Compliments from the new boy? It must be my lucky day."

"You can get more if you earn it." He simpered, and Ava smirked. "I switched to this class for a reason."

"Why's that?" She closed her book when Mr. Mulberry returned to his lecture.

"If I didn't have a passion for English, I'd say I was lacking vitamin U."

Ava glassily rolled her eyes. "And I'd say you're preposterously cheesy."

He smirked, waiting a moment. "What's your name?"

"Mr. English, you're going to have to work a lot harder to get my name on the tip of your tongue." She bit the end of her pen, mocking him with his words. "You have to earn it."

The polite stranger seemed quite amused by Ava's attitude, staring at her as she turned to face the blackboard. "The name's Theo." He whispered, staring at the girl who paid no attention to him with her eyes. Though he knew, she heard him when the corner of her lips curved upwards.


	5. Chapter 5: Intro's & Memoirs

**A|N: Stava time, enjoy!**

* * *

 _'If you're out on the road, feeling lonely, and oh so cold.  
_ _All you have to do is call my name, and I'll be there on the next train._

Ava roused in her sleep when, Tigger, the singing alarm clock grooved on the surface of her miniature nightstand. Constrained in the Avengers duvet, she yawned and gained the effort to slide up against her headboard, bopping her head to the song.

 _Where you lead, I will follow. Anywhere that you tell me to.  
_ _If you need, you need me to be with you I will follow, where you lead.'_

Instead of swatting the snooze button, she found herself singing loud and out of tune. She didn't care it was 6:58 in the morning – she planned to sing until the song finished _or_ until her voice became sore. _Whatever ensued first._ When the music did end, her cheeriness reduced, automatically loathing the memories that came flooding back like a ton of wrecked beaver dams.

 _'Gooooood morning, time to get out of bed! Time to get out of bed. Time to–.'_

Ava picked up the inanimate object to shut it off, noting its discoloration – she didn't envision anything less from a timepiece she was fortuitous to have for 13 years. Her grandmother bestowed the item upon her. Its structure was tiger-like and dyed the color of azure with thin white stripes. The time was exhibited in large green digits and at the back of its head; Ava's name was engraved in cursive writing. It didn't matter what holiday, season, place or time, Tigger was always set to go off the following morning. He would buzz five times per minute, and if he wasn't stopped, he did the next best thing – sing. She and her mother fell into a ritual of singing to their desired melody, knocking their bedroom wall to make sure they were both awake. It was practically a tradition, but after Malory's death, it became a forgotten routine. She would sing – but no one was on the other side of the wall to accompany her. She would knock – but there was no one there to knock back.

A sigh descended on the girl while she gingerly ascended out of bed, eyes averting to the 5x5 family pictures attached to the mirror of her chestnut bureau. The one that immensely filled her heart with joy was of her mother – standing on a dark stage, but bearing a smile as luminous as the sun. Malory's original dream job was to pursue music. After scoring a Bachelor Degree in Music Composition, her occupation was a freelance-veterinarian where she began recording with the record producer who discovered her. She sang in local communities, schools, and pubs, and was ultimately close to experiencing a breakout, but then she met Paul, transitioned to the animal business full time, and became pregnant with twins. Ava stared back at her reflection in the mirror, calculating she ought to end her trip down memory lane when negative whispers like _loneliness, guilt, and self-doubt,_ seeped into her ear.

 **[...]**

One had to count themselves lucky when they dominated the ability to wriggle through the doors of homeroom before escaping the ringing of the morning bell. In Ava's case – even more so, when she and Lydia got to dodge wrathful stares from Flemming because they had a substitute. They flew through Bio, bidding their goodbyes and agreeing to text before meeting up for lunch. Like usual, her spare was spent in the library. However, when the lunch bell rang, she stuck a hand in her bag only to find she forgot her phone in her locker.

If it wasn't for Lydia's tour, she wouldn't have been able to stroll through the boy's locker room, instead of walking all the way to the other side of the school. Ava's speedy dart toward the door was successful as she slipped in just before it closed. Her movements brought her to the farthest side of the lockers but stopped when the back of an _almost_ shirtless guy muddled her eyesight. Apparently, padding backward to leave the room wasn't a good idea since her foot grazed the bench, making her yelp and causing the person to swivel when he apprehended he wasn't alone.

"Unholy mother of freakishly Satan!" The boy lunged for the plaid shirt hanging out of his bag, chucking it on in a hurry. "O-Oh god, never again. I beg you!" Stiles halted prematurely, treading closer. He scolded himself mentally when his staring became potent. "We've got to stop meeting like this. Not that I mind, but every time we try to get acquainted we're uh..interrupted."

"You're right." This was their third time meeting, not like she was keeping track, but if she had to, she knew the answer. Was it wrong to say she was glad to meet him finally? "But we're alone now so.." Ava stepped forward just for the sake of formality and extended a hand. "Ava..I'm Ava." _Good going with the smooth introduction, not._

"I know." He shook her protracted hand. "I'm Stiles."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Stiles."

"The pleasure's all mine."

Wait.

"Wait...did you just say you know?"

Stiles blushed a tad, running a hand down his cheek. "Yeah, uh, I do. We were in the same elementary school. And my dad-, my dad is the Sheriff. You may not remember, but we uh, we actually met." He looked at her with an expectant look and the memory wheels in Ava's head began turning, but nothing came to mind. "A decade ago, my father umm, he worked on the..." Stiles coughed, incapable of finishing his sentence.

"The Hale fire..."

It suddenly hit her that Sheriff Stilinski was his father. _She couldn't believe she didn't make the connection sooner._

The Sheriff was the first officer to get to the scene of the crime. When it came down to questioning Stilinski was far nicer with the interrogation versus the other cops who looked down at her like _she_ was the suspect, like _she_ was the one who started the fire, or the very least – affiliated with the person who started it. Before being questioned, Ava was brought into a separate waiting room where she remembered seeing a young Stiles sitting at a dark speckled table, skimming through files. Kids their age would be playing with coloring books, or racecars, but Stiles was trying to help his dad solve unfinished cases. She knew he was extremely advanced for a lanky kid in plaid when he came over to say hi.

"Didn't wanna mention it but now that you did, yeah." Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, for bringing that up.."

"It's okay." She smiled at his consideration. "Denial doesn't do me any good now, does it?" He agreed with a shake of his head, and they stood through a fleeting quietness until Ava's eyes traveled to the gear behind him. "You're on the lacrosse team?"

"Yeah." Stiles squinted like he wasn't sure. "Well _no_. I mean, I'm on the team, but I don't really play."

"Towel boy or the benchwarmer?"

"Ha. Ha! Me? Towel boy?! No way! No siree Bob!" Her eyebrows uplifted in question, and he reddened. "Benchwarmer." He muttered.

"Don't worry; you'll play one day."

"I'm not counting on it." A zany smile appeared on his face, tilting his head. "Not to pry but what are you doing in here? This is a boy's locker room."

"I forgot my phone in my locker, wanted to take the shortcut." She pointed to the other door that was supposed to lead outside to the west wing. "Which I should probably be on my way."

"You should. So should I. Got things to do, like eat and well, _eat_ , because it's lunch. What else can you do in such a short period? Except hang with friends or homework or leave school property, but none of those things remotely add up to eating scrumptious food and ingesting the intricate process of it. And I'm rambling now..."

Ava laughed. "Can't go wrong with food. It was nice meeting you, officially and again. I'm sure we'll bump into each other in the halls, so I'll see you around?"

"Yes, I will see you when I see you. Not like I'll be looking for you because that'll be stalkerish but, um. Definitely." Stiles waved as she walked past him. He kept his eyes on her as she pushed the door to get out and he suddenly remembered it was locked from the outside. "Hey, Ava! I completely forgot to say, the Coach locks it from the outside when there's no practice."

"Looks like I have to take that dreaded walk after all," She had already rounded the corner, making her way back to the entrance she came in. The blonde placed her hand on the handle, catching a clutter of yapping and the shrill noise of a fire drill, but when she pulled the door, it didn't open. She tried once again, but it still didn't budge. "Uh, Stiles?" In no time, he zipped around the corner laying eyes on Ava who looked back at him. "The door can't open."

"Can't open? What do you mean? Here, look you just have to–," He walked over; pulling the lever, but it didn't dislodge. He repeated his actions, but nothing happened. He stuck his ear to the door for an expedite listen, and the only thing he could have made out was the disappearing set of footsteps. He turned back to face Ava, but their concentration blasted upwards when the lights began to flicker. Stiles anguishly began pulling the door to no avail, hating himself when a whimper escaped his lips. "No. No no no. I don't have my phone on me either."

"It's okay; the lock will be lifted once the drill is over, right?" Ava had still been staring up at the spasming lights that had just gone off. When she heard no response, she spun around to see a wheezing Stiles crammed against a locker, slipping down to the floor. "Stiles? Are you okay?"

Stiles shook his head. He clutched his chest, feeling like everything was closing in on him. He felt his breath grow rapid, forcing him to progress to shorter, more chopped up sentences. "No...air. Breathing...Air." It wasn't visible, but blood pounded in the back of his head as his trembling fingers scratched the paint on the metal lockers. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and Ava, who was vaguely skittish but couldn't show she was, sprouted into action. She faded around the corner and returned with a damp paper towel, kneeling in front of him to wipe his head.

"Stiles look at me."

His mouth felt dry, and his hands quivered to no limit, but in his panic state, he managed to look up at her.

"Lay flat on your back and close your eyes."

His eyes went wide, burying his head in his hands. "I-, I can't!" He shook his head vividly.

"I promise, it'll be okay."

Although his chest was still heaving and his hands were still shaking, Stiles reluctantly did what she instructed, starting with closing his eyes.

"Breathe from the sole of your stomach, slow and steady. Don't talk, just do."

She grabbed his hand, and he held on for dear life as she began tracing small circles on the palm of his skin. It took a while, but when he co-operated, his panic attack diminished until its death. His view was no longer swimming; his heart wasn't going to jump out his chest, and the damp spots underneath the arm of his shirt were proof his excessive sweating finally concluded. She nodded to confirm if he was okay, and he nodded back. They sat in a social tranquility for a while, one that most people wouldn't enjoy given the circumstances.

"Ava." She looked down at him for the first time, not realizing his focus hardly left her. He showed a small smile, glancing at her hand that was very close to his. "Thank you."

"No need." She traced his gaze but looked away. "These things happen, you're only human."

"Most people would have laughed or backed away."

"Well, Stilinski, I'm not most people. Looks like I cashed in that I.O.U for knocking you down...and sorry about _that_ by the way."

The boy waved his hand, in other words saying it was okay. "Don't worry about it."

"Before I forget." Ava dug through her bag, pulled out a black marker, and wrote on lined paper before reaching the door and pushing it under the crease where the light shun through. She walked back to where Stiles was and sat across from him.

"What'd you write?" He sat up from lying down.

"That we're stuck inside, and someone should get the custodian to open the door. Someone's bound to pass this way sooner or later."

"Smart idea." His lopsided signature smirk surfaced on his face.

"I didn't get an A in Logics for nothing."

Stiles scoffed realizing they both had the same teacher – Sherry Johnson, a blonde goddess from Texas, who taught, Logics, Math, and Art for the Grade 3 kids of the Beacon Hills Elementary School. "Gimmie a break, everyone who had Ms. Johnson's class passed with flying colors." He put on a mockery face, swishing his head back and forth like he had long hair. "Mornin' class, how ya'll doin' today?" He drawled in a Southern accent. "Can ya'll lovely pickles tell me what primary colors make secondary colors?"

Ava bit her lip, refraining from laughing. "You perfected that all too well!"

"Thank ya, thank ya very much." He bowed and strummed his fingers, making a peace sign.

"Congrats Elvis, you're not like Jackson who couldn't answer Ms. Johnson's question. I'm not sure he can tell his head from his ass."

"You can't blame him." Ava gave Stiles an incredulous look, moderately confounded as to why he was defending him. "If you really think about it, you can't. I say that because both body parts are full of shit."

After engrossing in candid laughter, Stiles and Ava revamped their small talk into proper chitchat, providing them an easy atmosphere to catch up on the things they missed over the years. Whatever topics came to mind were discussed with humor, sternness, and respect – a wide variety ranging from people to food, to music to movies and from books to school.

"Oh! I got one." Stiles licked his lips, giving sexy his best shot. "Hey, girl. Are you the map of USA, because I've booked my ticket and I'm ready to travel your body."

They were on the subject of absurd pickup lines. How? They couldn't remember. Why? They needed some way to pass the time.

Ava made a face. "That was terrible!"

Stiles grinned. "Come on, that was way better than your _'hey baby, are you tired because you've been running through my mind all day,'_ line."

"It wasn't _that_ farcical. Besides, it's a classic."

"A _cliché_ classic."

An unexpected noise cut into their conversation, and Ava threw a hand over her stomach in agitation. "Out of all the days to skip breakfast."

None of them had a device to tell time, but they had indeed been in the room for more than half an hour.

"Hold up." Stiles got up and rummaged through his backpack. "I think I have a Nature Valley bar in my bag somewhere."

"It's not like I can go anywhere."

"You know what I mean." He tossed her the bar when he found it, but she tossed it back. "I thought you were hungry?" He sent it back to her.

"I'll feel bad to eat the whole thing. You haven't eaten."

He waved her off. "Nah, keep it. Your grumbling tummy sounds like an Australian volcano."

Stiles wore a somber expression but Ava, who had already bit into the bar, cupped her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter. He had no idea why she was laughing, but he joined in. The two hadn't noticed the lights came back on, and the main door was wide open, revealing a couple of bystanders. They stood up, looking at the grumpy janitor who grunted like _Lurch_ when he looked at the students like they were a couple of misfits. He and the other people disappeared, leaving two confused people behind.

"Dude. Did you spend the whole lunch in here?" Scott's eyes checked over his friend. "You good?"

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, stealing a glance at Ava. "Yeah, I'm good. It's all good. Perfect actually."

"Good. Cause we've less than two minutes before the bell rings," Lydia pulled Ava out by her hand.

The empty hall was filled with the bodies of the four friends, words exchanged between the females and males standing in a circle. When they noticed - they broke apart, all of them communicating with their smiles and eyes. Lydia said bye to the two boys and began dragging Ava down the hall. They didn't have any other classes together besides Biology, but both their third-period classes were walking distance. As Ava was dragged down the hallway, Stiles became a victim of the same thing. It could have been labeled as _luck, accidental or coincidental_ , but they turned back the same time, unable to fight their growing smile. Stiles' gaze never broke from Ava as her figure shrunk and vanished around the corner. He knew after she was gone, he should have been paying attention to whatever his best friend was saying, but Scott's words drifted through his ears like a blur - he had his rumbling stomach and crazy thoughts to thank for that. He _hated_ his panic attacks and _hated_ being stuck in the _locker room_ out of all places, but if he had to do it all over again, he wouldn't change a single thing - especially not the company.


	6. Chapter 6: The Riddler

With it being Friday, Ava was proud to say she made it through her first week of high school. Her first day could have been summed up as a level-one earthquake, but as the days dissolved, her bad luck turned around. After bolting through the door of English Literature yesterday, she was addressed with a pop quiz. 92% was a decent score to obtain on something she didn't study for. Her celebratory evening consisted of three things _–_ _eating, texting, and sleeping._

If only Ava could have kept the commemoration going, then the need to scream wouldn't be an itching sensation in the back of her throat. Being strung through the cafe like a yo-yo against her own free will was the contrary description of fun. Lydia thought it would be cool to spend most of the lunch introducing Ava to all her friends, and she was all for that, but the inauguration took longer than deduced and if some sort of nourishment didn't enter her system (after practically walking the whole school) then her demise would've been quicker than _Timberlake's Super Bowl Nipplegate_. They started with Danny – a gay Lacrosse player who was surprisingly one of Jackson's best friends. _So weird for someone so nice to be friends with someone so mean._ They ended with Sidney Scott – a cheerleader underling who worshiped the air Lydia breathed. _Ava couldn't make 100 theories of how that friendship was formed._

The scenery was the definition of paradise as the girl's chit chatted and zigzagged to the same table route like they did on Tuesday. The air was clear, the sun was refulgent, and the smell of Mother Nature surrounded everyone with pleasure. The table was loaded with a bunch of people when Lydia snuggled into the middle seat and was hailed by everybody. Ava, however, received mixed expressions.

"Will you relax? She's cool." Lydia signaled to the people Ava assumed were her friends. "To my right is Kira, in front of you are Liam and Mason, and you already know, or at _least_ remember Scott."

The salutes and eye contact between the new girl and the gang were abrupt but cordial. Her butt gravitated to the farthest seat to the left, opposite Scott, when people restarted their conversations. It was a win-win situation because she was able to proceed with what her tummy craved all along – food.

"So, Deaton told me you were homeschooled?"

Ava had already consumed 80% of her meal when she looked up to see Scott pursued a friendly interest in her. "Yeah, partly."

The yapping around the lunch table ceased when the attention turned to Ava.

"Really?" Liam questioned.

"What was it like? Did you get to wake up whatever time you wanted?" Mason conveyed.

"No boys." Lydia sassed. "The main question is, was your teacher a hottie with a body?"

The group cracked into laughter at her solemn countenance, knowing very well to expect an answer like that from the girl who attracted boys like magnets. Query after query took place and before Ava knew it – she was spilling her guts on what her life was like in Massachusetts. On the outside, she maintained an artless smile, but on the inside, she was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Their rhythm of stories, questions, and laughter came all too easy as they discoursed about random childhood stories – and to say it was ecstatic was an understatement.

"You gave a 200-pound boy a wedgie in front of the teacher?!"

"Yes!" Ava had just finished telling her 9th-grade wedgie story. "I'm certain that was the last time he ever picked on 10-year-olds again."

"That's just…sick." Lydia's face twisted in revulsion and her gagging made some of the people around the table chuckle.

"Sick like how her wedgies bring all the boys to the yard?" Mason singsonged.

Ava's mouth dropped when he teased her, Liam chuckled, but Scott seemed the most amused by this, and she just knew what was coming next. Ava picked up a water bottle, aiming for fire. The scowl she wore added to her livid facial expression, but she didn't know how long she could've held that facade for, only because she was withholding real laughter. "Don't you dare!"

"...And she's like it's fresher than yours!" He resumed.

"Damn right! It's better than yours." Scott shimmied in his seat.

Ava flung the bottle at Scott who evaded it, and she and the three boys dove for their leftover scraps to play dodge ball, but stilled in contrasting positions when a female voice cut into their juvenile antics. She couldn't see who it was, but the need to jokingly curse the person mentally gamboled in her head.

"What's better than yours?"

Because Scott, Lydia, and Kira had a clear view of the field, they didn't have to turn to see who was speaking.

"Uh..nothing, Malia." Scott rapidly fell back down into his seat.

"Nothing but wedgies," Mason mumbled. Ava nudged him playfully.

"Did I miss the memo? Who's that? Why is she sitting in my seat?" No one answered, their eyes began drifting. "Remind me, how does anyone know her?"

The controversy that hung in the air like a dark cloud only worsened when Stiles walked to the table, greeting his friends with a wave, adding a _"Hey, guys."_ His next initial instinct was to sit down and talk with Scott about the new video game he bought, but when he saw Ava, he energetically stimulated. _Maybe just a little too much._

Everyone's lips were sealed at Malia's dismayed scrutiny when she looked from Stiles to Ava then back to Stiles again. "Where were you yesterday?"

Malia didn't have a clue of his whereabouts at lunch and was actually referring to the class he skipped. Yesterday, after attending Tech with Scott, Stiles walked to Trigonometry. He stopped short of stepping through the threshold when he saw the filled classroom. Trig _was_ one of his favorite subjects, Mr. Ralston _was_ one of his favorite teachers, and that _was_ the only class he shared with Malia. It should've given them a chance to do what most couples do, work, talk, flirt, kiss – but the voice in his head nagged him to turn around, get in his jeep, and go home.

"Stiles!" Malia bellowed, disbanding his thoughts.

"We were stuck in a locker room!" He blurted out. Stiles was caught so off guard; he didn't see Scott and Lydia, frantically waving their hands, looking like they were pleading with him to keep his mouth shut. Regretfully, his tongue won the battle and not his brain. _Too little, too late._

"We?" It didn't take more than half a light bulb for Malia to understand what he meant. "You just so happened to bump into her on the first day and be stuck in a locker room with her as well?" She stared at Stiles invidiously, the air surrounding them becoming tenser. Stiles brows scrunched in incertitude at her utterance. He didn't tell her he bumped into Ava the first day, so how did she know? _Must have been a rumor._

The son of the sheriff transparently relaxed and thanked the heavens when someone else spoke up before he did.

"You got stuck in a locker room together?" Asked Liam.

"Y-yeah." He tugged the straps of his backpack, eschewing the wild eyes of his girlfriend.

The werecoyote traversed her arms. The way her big chocolaty eyes burned unsavory glares in Ava, Ava inferred the brunette really wanted to tear off a piece of her head with her teeth, or really wanted her seat back. Coveting for the latter would've been an excellent outcome, but the feeling in the air told her she wouldn't be that lucky. _She may have disliked public bickering, but she wasn't one to shy away from confrontation._ Therefore, before anything else happened...

"Okay!"

Kira intervened.

"Malia, why don't you come with me?"

The brunette didn't feel like taking a walk, but staying anywhere near Ava for the time being nerved her more than it should have. So, she looked at Kira with a deadly affirmation and reluctantly walked away. The place became silent once more, while everyone looked around, not knowing what to say. Stroppy silence lingered in the air until Lydia whispered something to Scott. Liam stole Mason's attention, and Ava was left staring out onto the field, where she felt Stiles' gaze on her. He sat down and copied her actions, both of them falling into chatter despite the awkward atmosphere. Their conversation was pleasant as it grew, but the highlight for Stiles was when Ava asked him how he was doing after the panic attack. He didn't think she remembered, and once she brought it up, he found it thoughtful and sweet that she asked.

 **[...]**

"Open your books to page 394." Mr. Harris walked in and dumped his briefcase on the desk.

Ava was appreciatively in her last class for the day.

"Do we have to?" A random student reprimanded. The majority of the class groaned in agreement.

"Unless you want to receive an automatic zero, flunk the class, and end up at McDonald's making minimum wage for the rest of your disturbing and pathetic little lives, I oppose to your question, Mr. Finnegan."

The room was so soundless; the dropping of a pin could've been heard. _1 point to the teacher, 0 to the class._

They followed his colorful orders and flipped the pages of the textbook. They sat through his lectures of formulas, and measurements. For how long they had been at it – she couldn't say. Ava had just snapped out of her thoughts when Mr. Harris' voice boomed in discontent. "What's the maximum number of isomers for alkenes with the molecular formula of C4H8?" He thundered, blood levels seeming as if it was going to hit the roof.

No retort. _Second pin dropped._

The door opened, and all students were curious to see who saved them from answering the question.

"The disappointment just keeps on growing." Mr. Harris undoubtedly did not support Scott and Stiles standing near the doorway with a pink slip.

Every colored paper had a different meaning.

Yellow meant detention.

Red was a suspension.

Green meant newcomers.

And pink? Well, it was to transfer, switch, or drop classes.

Harris recorded their attendance and updated them on the topics they were revising, before assigning them a seat. In no time, he strutted back to the center of the room, returning to his lecture. "And right before I was cursed with the power of the pink paper, I asked a simple question, and I still demand an answer. Please do not make me question my decision of ever becoming a teacher."

Ava couldn't bare for the third pin, so she took the liberty of answering.

"Four. The answer's four." Her emphasis flicked to the green-eyed man who eyed her dubiously through his glasses.

"Correct. Perhaps some of you could learn from Ms. Cassadine." He looked around and solely concentrated on the back of the room. "Too bad some of you lack the ability to _focus_ like her, isn't that right Mr. McCall? Mr. Stilinski?"

"Wha–?" The cover of two highlighters fell out of Stiles' mouth as he and Scott simultaneously looked up.

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting your coloring session?"

The class laughed when they both shook their head in embarrassment.

"Then you wouldn't mind the separation." Harris tapped the tip of the table. "Stilinski, up here."

Stiles groaned, but when Mr. Harris sent him a scrutinizing look, he packed up his things and made his way to the front to sit next to Ava.

"To combat the plague of ignorance in my class, you will combine efforts with the person next to you to create a round of experiments using H2O and CO2 for molecule structures. Also, what and _how_ chemical metamorphosis changes. If I had my way, I'd make you present it today, but lucky for you; it's due four weeks from now. You have the rest of the class to discuss."

Harris handed out an outline before he sat at his desk, flipping through papers, technically hinting papers were far more interesting than his students were. Stiles and Ava planned for their project until the bell rang. All students hurried out of the classroom, and Stiles, Scott, and Ava were the only ones left gathering their things. Even Mr. Harris was on his way out but was stopped in front of the door by another teacher.

"Hey, sorry about stealing your coloring partner." Ava expressed to Scott who came into view, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Oh, come on! That was totally unfair and unjustified!" Stiles spat, scoffing.

"He's in good hands." Scott chuckled, never taking his eyes off the girl. "I've got work at the clinic, see you around?" Ava nodded. Scott smiled and signaled to his friend. Stiles jumped up from his chair and walked to the door with Scott, hitting full whisper mode. Scott left, and Stiles came strolling back in with his attention devoted to his phone.

Ava swung her feet down from the stool and picked up the brainstorm they had worked on. "Do you want to keep the layout or should I?" When Stiles didn't respond, she clapped her hands. "Earth to Stiles!"

"Huh? What?" He finally looked up, remembering she was there. "Sorry. It's..it's better if you keep it."

Stiles grabbed his backpack but trailed off like he usually did when he got distracted. His attention shot outside of the classroom door, and Ava pryingly spun around to see what was so fascinating.

"What are you doing here?" He probed to Malia who came bouncing in with an enormous smile.

"I transferred!" Her grin was unstoppable as she waved a pink slip in his face.

Stiles looked at her like he was lost for words. "To this class?"

"Duh." She pecked his lips and pulled him by his collar. "Let's go celebrate."

Stiles was pulled frantically as Malia dragged him to the door, all the while trying to compose himself. He did get a chance to look back at Ava right as he disappeared, but no words were exchanged.

Ava stood and pondered what the hell just happened. She shook her head and laughed to herself thinking about how soap opera-ish her day was. When she exited the classroom, she powered on her phone that buzzed with a notification. Her eyes briefly skimmed through the text message, but upon reading further, she stopped in her tracks, feeling like her heart was going to drop through her stomach. She breathed, rereading the text word for word.

Message received from: 402-080-0001.  
 _4:03 P.M._

 _Let's all pity the poor little orphan because she's back in town.  
_ _Walking around with a smile, but underneath is a frown.  
_ _I can't wait to see you crash and fall. Pun intended.  
_ _Remember, I see all._

- _The Riddler_

Multiple stabs of desolation smacked Ava so fast that she unsteadily toppled forward and sprang into a stranger who dropped their phone via mid text at the sudden impact. She was sent staggering backward as her pulses started to race. It didn't help when the person she bumped into started to caress her shoulder. It was hard to process most things, but she was able to make out the words "are you okay" after a while.

"Ava, are you sure you're okay?" The individual removed their hoodie and looked at the hand that belonged to Theo when he caressed her shoulder with concern.

She had no success in filing away her dizziness. Her heart thumped inside her chest so hard that she felt like she was a bomb about to go off. She unwillingly had her first panic attack. "I.." She tried to deep breathe and belch out some words after air entered her lungs. "I..I-, I'm fine." She stuttered. "I have to go.."

Ava heard him call after her, but still never looked back after she turned around and started running out the door.

Jackson and Matt were amongst the very few people in the hallway, grabbing their Lacrosse gear when they spun around, their laughter surging when Ava almost fell. Ava couldn't even attempt to put them in their place, she had better things to worry about, like the million questions that swarmed in her head. What was going on? Who was watching her? How did the person know she was an orphan?

And who in the world sent her that text?


	7. Chapter 7: All Those Years Ago

**A|N: I would like to thank you all so much for the follows | favorites | & reviews.**

[1] We're about to delve into the past. Enjoy! [:

* * *

"Av, breakfast is ready!" Uncle J hollered from downstairs.

"Coming!" Ava stopped in front of the giant swiveling mirror, vaguely rethinking her outfit. Perhaps a red velvet skirt, a black long-sleeved faux sweater, and a crème bracelet that coordinated with the white platform mules on her feet was fairly snazzy for a non-event Saturday. But changing was long overdue. She was about to step foot out the door but stopped when her eyes roved to her cell on the nightstand.

Yesterday, after receiving the anonymous text, she went straight home and spent hours trying to skip trace the number. Minutes turned into hours and her ideas strung thin until she finally decided to give up. She didn't have any idea who could have sent the message and a small pang of fear evaded her comfort, but a dead end was a dead end. Although there was nothing that could've been done, it was a solace not to wake up to any new messages.

A far-flung sound brought her attention to her phone. She flipped the facedown phone over and mildly tapped the screen. With a sigh, Ava retreated from the room, making her way to the kitchen to consume the bowl of Oats and fruits with her name on it. When she finished, she spotted James from the kitchen window, raking leaves in their backyard. He looked busy but peaceful, but not joining him outside wasn't an option.

The warmth of the dying summer air slapped her skin as soon as she stepped on the pavement. "Good morning."

James had just finished piling the leaves into a black garbage bag. When he turned around, he rested his elbow on the rake handle, a smile settling on his lips. "Bonjour mon amour. You need glue."

"Hm?" Her skepticism at his observation was worn on her face. "I'm a little too old for Arts and Crafts, what's the glue for?"

"To glue back the hearts you'll break with your looks. Vous regardez de charme."

Ava giggled at his sense of humor and cocked her right leg behind her left. "I'll consider it," She grinned and walked out to help him bag some more leaves, basking in the quietude that advanced with their work.

"How are your classes?"

"They're good. I like them." _Except Math, of course._

"Marvelous. Did you make any friends?"

She pondered for a moment then nodded. "Yeah, I believe so."

"Good..that's good."

Ava retrieved a string to tie the last bag of the stray leaves. However, when her phone vibrated in her pocket, a short panic inserted itself into her veins as she dropped the bag onto the ground. Her thoughts expressly went to the one person who ran through her mind – _The Riddler._

 _Fuck._

"Everything alright?"

"Um." She didn't want to say yes and lie to him, but she also didn't contemplate on telling him about the text. It was bad enough he had to take her in under his wing, putting him through worry wouldn't have been fair. "Everything is fine." She ended up lying anyway.

James suspected Ava but then transferred his pivot off her to the exterior of the yard. "You mind accompanying me for a little while?"

"Of course not." She whisked the dirt off her hands and started to trail behind him as he unlatched the metal gate.

An open space of grass and a hill surrounded the back of their house, beyond that was a forest of the tallest coniferous trees ever to sprout in the town. They sauntered to the entry of the woods and the farther they got, the more Mother Nature bombarded them. The last step taken hurled them on a split path in two. On the left was a patch of dark muddy grass and an opening that lead upward toward a hill. On the right was a flat and less challenging path, highlighting the greenest grass and beauteous blossoms.

"I chose the wrong day to wear these shoes." Ava panted and put her hands on her hips, demanding to capture her breath.

James laughed and turned around to offer his arm. "Just a few more steps." He put his shoulder around her as they trekked toward the right path.

"Good, at least I wouldn't die and come back from the dead to haunt you."

He chuckled, adding more jokes to their ongoing conversation. When they had reached the destination, he let her go from his embrace.

Ava stared at the outlook, dazed and amazed. "Oh my gosh."

They stood on the ridge, glancing down at the forest that erected like troopers on the horizon. The sunrays illuminated the growing flowers and the bright waterfront. A sporadic gush of wind kept the firmament active as the fall erupted, and to Ava – it couldn't have been more magical. A serene sensation enveloped the teenager, incomparable to anything she had ever felt before. "This is so amazing!" The fall was untouchable but close enough for the mist to hit her hands.

By the look on James' face, Ava was under the impression he was a frequent visitor. "Ah, just what your father said."

"What?" She moved back to look at him, unaware of just how many memories were made. "My dad came here?"

He nodded, looking to his left at the flight of pavement steps that spiraled downwards. The steps led to a curvy stream, which was the bottom of the waterfall. The sidelines had the natural asphalt, rocks, and fallen leaves. "It was our first and last play area as children."

"Wow." The girl took a moment to depict two young boys playing down below and causing mischief with any and everything they could find. It was one occasion where she didn't get sad by thinking of her father. It was nice to see a place that was a part of his childhood. "Wait, you stopped playing here?"

James swept the ground with his right foot in silence before speaking up. "Sadly."

Ava frowned and crossed her arms, wondering if she should have asked. Her curiosity overcame her and she braced herself for the chill she knew she was going to get from the story. "What happened?"

"Legend has it there was a hooded figure that wandered around this premises at night." James folded his arms behind his back. "One night, your father and I came out here, and just as we were about to leave, the trees began to rustle in oscillation, the warm air heavily condensed into whipping cold, and the clouds in the sky formed a shade of gray I'd never seen before. I started running but when I didn't hear my brother's footsteps, I spun around only to see him in the arms of someone else." He paused briefly. "For the few seconds I did look up, it felt like he was staring into my soul before he dropped Paul back on the ground."

Ava attempted to digest everything; she was speechless due to the fact it was her first time hearing about the circumstances and was thankful her uncle and dad escaped the wrath of the forest maniac, but the situation certainly got her thoughts rolling. "Did you tell someone else about him?"

The elder ducked his head and strode closer to the border, eyes tethered to the stream. Ava clasped her arms around his torso in support, calculating he felt culpable. "He wasn't caught then.."

"No." His gaze fell below. "He disappeared down that trail; it's why we call it...chemin des ténèbres." Naughton looked down with a far-reaching expression, his voice low but serious. "I know you can see the allure of this place but promise me if you do come here, it wouldn't be alone and not at night."

"What makes you think I would come here alone?" The uneasiness she felt was swirling in the pits of her stomach, but she forced it back down.

"Because that path down there could also lead you to the Preserve of Beacon Hills."

Ava pursed her lips and crossed her arms, shaking off the tangible discomfort current of a shudder that went up to her spine. She glanced down passed the stream and into the forestry path. From afar, its exterior appeared harmless, but on the inside, it seemed like it was a different realm, one full of legends, traps, and dangerous secrets.

* * *

Message received:  
12:49 P.M.  
 _Are you home?  
_ _ **-Lydia.**_

Message sent:  
1:04 P.M.  
 _Yeah. Why?  
_ ** _-Ava._**

Message received:  
1:38 P.M.  
 _I'm outside.  
_ ** _-Lydia._**

Ava hadn't any clue what Lydia was doing outside her house on a Sunday afternoon and before she could reply, a knock on the door emerged, followed by the sound of footsteps and her name being called. She rushed downstairs to meet Lydia who was casually conversing with James like she'd done so before. James declared he was heading out to the garden, hinting they'd be able to chat freely. The ball of their small talk lasted a few minutes until they decided on relocating to the basement - though it died when a hush presented itself in the room. Lydia was the first to break the silence, giving a long look, wondering how she was going to say what she needed to, but after a while, it just sort of fell out. ''I know who you really are.''

Ava stared at the girl who sat a few shuffles away, a grim feature falling onto her face. She knew there was no possibility for her to flee from the conversation that was long overdue. She closed her eyes and combed a hand through her hair, thinking back to ten years ago.

* * *

 ** _June 18, 2005._**

 _Ding!_

 _The doorbell above the residence broke the silence in the Martin household. Lydia squealed, sprinting to the front door. "I've got it!"_

 _Natalie was swifter. She bent down and pulled Lydia back by the arm._ _"Now now darling, be patient."_

 _Lydia glared playfully. "Inequitable. I want to play dress up with my new friend!"_

 _"All in a timely matter." The red haired woman fixed the silver necklace that corresponded with her navy colored dress._

 _A few weeks ago, Natalie Martin was the MC for the Beacon Hills Local Charity, which presented her and Lydia an opportunity to befriend Malory and Eva who attended the event. Throughout the night, the mothers became acquainted. Ultimately, after the party, the women began hanging out, realized their daughters were in the same school and was currently about to engage in a play date._

 _Natalie bent down to her daughter's level, checking to make sure everything was perfect. "Clothes?"_

 _"Wrinkle free." Lydia straightened her flowered skirt._

 _"Hair?"_

 _Lydia gave thumbs up._

 _"Teeth?"_

 _They both showed their perfectly whitened pearls, laughing as they accessed the front door. She opened the door gradually to reveal a woman, and two girls_ – _hands full of edible items._

 _"Hello, girls...Malory!" The elder woman gave a welcoming smile._

 _"Hello, Natalie. I come bearing gifts." The woman on the porch hoisted up her hands to show she had chocolate fudge cake. Ava and Eva copied, displaying they had salad, fruits, and drinks._

 _"Mom.." Lydia pulled on her mother's right arm. "There are two of them!"_

 _The lady bent down to her daughter's level almost forgetting Lydia never met the other twin. She had only met Eva at the Charity Party, Ava was absent, she, grandma Cassadine and Uncle J went out of state. "They're twins, honey." Her tone was soft while looking back and forth between the kids. "What do we do when we meet new people?"_

 _Lydia paced forward sticking out a hand. "Hi, my name's Lydia. What's your name?"_

 _Ava shook the strawberry blonde's hand. "Ava."_

 _Lydia grinned, putting her hands on her hips. "Eva and I fabricated a futuristic activity, wanna engage?"_

 _Ava looked up to her mom for guidance. She was smarter than the standard kid was, but it seemed as if Lydia was two steps further, judging by all her academic terms. Malory nodded, and Ava responded with a, yes, her and Eva handing their deserts to the women. They held Lydia's hand as they skipped off into the house and through the backyard, where a series of playthings were set up. Natalie invited her friend in, engrossing in adult chatter of her own. The play date was successful and became one of many. The Martin's and the Cassadine's collapsed into a routine of meeting up twice for the week and partaking in some sort of activity, whether it was play dates, shopping sprees, sleepovers, or parties. And all was well until the big fight._

 ** _May 25, 2006._**

 _"Come on! Just do it!" Lydia screamed._

 _"I said, no!" Ava yelled, walking along the sidewalk with her friend._

 _They had been playing hopscotch a block away from the Cassadine house when Lydia came up with a theme for the twins 9th birthday that was a week away._

 _"Why?!"_

 _"Eva hates clowns!"_

 _Lydia puffed in discouragement. At school, all the older and cooler kids praised the clown theme. So she didn't get why the idea didn't appeal to Ava, yeah maybe Eva would be scared, but she'd look back at it and laugh, years to come. The two kids stomped back in the thick tension, not communicating until they saw the house that couldn't come into their view fast enough._

 _"Lyd..." Ava halted and eyed her home across the street, watching Eva in the window. She gave a hesitant smile to her sister who couldn't join them because she was sick with the stomach bug. "I don't wanna fight with you, but I'm not going to scare my sister either, I want her to enjoy her birthday not cry on it."_

 _The green-eyed child remained silent, her features softening at Ava's words only for a brief second. She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. "Fine, if you don't want to be cool, then it's your deficiency."_

 _Something inside Ava snapped at Lydia's spewed words. Her fists balled up, her heart rate thumped and her sky blue eyes morphed into the same shade of the dark throbbing vein on her forehead. "You know what? I don't care if you don't come to my party!" Ava wailed, one eye twitching._

 _"Suit yourself! I don't care either!" Lydia was just as obdurate, refusing to cave. She opened her mouth again, but her eyes went wide. Ava was too enraged, to notice what Lydia was looking at. She inquired, but Lydia could only answer in a stutter. "Ava...y-your eyes, th-they're_ –, _"_

 _When Ava perceived Lydia was indeed_ _frightened, she spun to face one of the many cars that were parked on the side of the road, staring at her reflection through a driver's window. Her hand roamed her face, but upon closer inspection, she saw a small glowing light behind her figure. Her attention peered into the ball of light that looked like it was coming toward her, but it vanished right before Ava let out a high-pitched scream, putting up her hands and closing her eyes on basic instinct. She opened her eyes leisurely, of what she would see, but no one, nothing, was there. Lydia looked at the girl wide-eyed and began backing away._

 _"Lyd_ – _."_

 _"Don't!" Lydia shrieked before Ava could recommence._

 _"But_ – _."_

 _"Don't!" She repeated. "I'm going home. I can't be friends with a...a freak!"_

 _And with that, Lydia turned away and ran back the route to her house, unsupervised, leaving a sulking Ava to stare at the nothingness. Eva, who caught the whole thing, stared at her sister from the window. Ava dragged herself inside and ran up to her room, heaving herself on the bed. She cried into her pillow and ignored Eva who banged on the door, asking a million questions._

 _Ava spent the following days trying to avoid interaction until the birthday of the twins rolled around. Lydia showed up, and regretfully kept her distance from Ava. The next few days, the unfortunate fire happened and when Natalie heard the news, she consoled and comforted a crying Ava, while James took care of errands. (Funeral preparations and moving arrangements.)_

 _On Ava's departure date, there was nothing more she wanted than to hug Lydia and tell her that despite everything that happened, they would always be best friends. But Charles Martin (Natalie's estranged husband) had taken Lydia for the weekend, and when he dropped her home that night, it was too late. Lydia sprinted out of her dad's vehicle, only to see the small of Ava's figure vanish in the backseat of a moving car. Lydia held her mother's waist and didn't bother to wipe the splurging hot tears, sailing down her cheeks. It just hit home that was the last time they were ever going to speak or see each other._

* * *

It was something to snap out of the reverie to see Lydia standing from her chair; eyes brimmed to the fullest with unshed tears. She bit her lip when she and Lydia both hesitated, lingering back and forth on their heel. All it took was for Lydia to nod to Ava who flung herself into the open arms of her friend. The two girls spoke with their eyes, enjoying the occasional sound of laughter.

It truly felt great to bury the hatchet that ruined their friendship all those years ago.

* * *

 **A|N: For those of you who don't understand French, here's the translation of what Uncle J says.**

Bonjour mon amour – _Hello, my love.  
_ Vous regardez de charme – _You look charming.  
_ Chemin des ténèbres – _Path of darkness._


	8. Chapter 8: Bad Blood

**09 | 14** **th** **| 2015.**

* * *

 _'Aspects of genomic design have no known phenotypic effect that can influence subsequent evolution.'_

Sitting at the library desk and squinting at the words written on the textbook really made Ava's head hurt. She had many things to be content with, like the grade of her second pop quiz and making up with Lydia, but every time she sought to concentrate – her mind swam to the somewhat terrifying talk she had with her uncle two days ago. A crowd of inquiries bounced in her mind, unwilling to dispose, ignoring her desperate protests.

What happened to the hooded stranger?

How come no one saw his face?

Was he still alive?

And even so, wouldn't that make him a senior? Course, there was always a possibility he could have been a supernatural creature, but she didn't believe in those sort of things.

Her senses came into focus when her blue binder smashed into her right foot, making her squeal. She reached for the object that flopped off the table and looked up to meet the apologetic eyes of one of her classmates.

"Sorry," Greenberg said, pulling a chair to sit at the round oak table. Ava was acquainted with the boy from her English Lit class. If she had to sum him up in a few words, he'd be considered a sports addict with a fetish for action figures and junk food. He was that kid who was always picked last for dodgeball, but he had hidden potential, and for that, Ava took a liking to him. "Catching up on homework?" He gestured to the book in her hand, digging through what looked like a hazardous maze of obstacles in his bag.

"Not really, just reading for the sake of sanity."

"It's lunch, and you choose to read a dumb Bio book?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Man, chicks are _weird_."

The two peers unloaded their lunch from their bags and engendered more chatter as time flew by.

"I have five more minutes to return _The Catcher in the Rye_ before I get charged five bucks." Greenberg stood up from his chair and tossed some salted nuts in his mouth. "Watch my crap?"

Ava nodded as he made his way to the drop off desk. She indulged in the acquired fruit from her container, cursing her thoughts that once again – jumped to the hooded stranger. When her surveillance skyrocketed to the main doors of the library, that swung open revealing a friendly face, she mentally signed herself with glee.

Stiles, who managed to trip over a chair leg, run into a stranger and almost collide with the table, greeted Ava with a glorious sigh. "You're here. I didn't expect you to be here out of all places. I mean, not that there's anything wrong with being in a library at lunch, because the library is for smart people, but–." He halted in embarrassment. "I'm not saying you're not intelligent because you are, I just meant.." He declined and waved his hand, feeling a bit foolish. "Uh, nevermind. What's up?" He quizzed, trying to ignore his own rambling. Ava thought it would have been impolite to answer with food in her mouth, so she waved the orange she was eating. "Right.." He drummed his fingers on the edge of a chair and casually sat down. "Great nutrition, hooray for oranges."

"Do you always babble when you're nervous?"

"No? Yes. Not all the time. Well, there are times when I talk in my sleep, and when I meet someone for the first time, and oh, when I'm on Adderall, which is like all the damn time...I think I just proved a point against myself." He shook his head but quickly, furrowed his brows when he noticed the gear on the table. "You have company. I-I didn't realize.."

Ava smiled, letting Stiles know it was no big deal. Stiles exhaled lightly and quickly put a knife in the growing silence, tossing a question her way. "Hey um, are you free on Saturday?"

She slouched, wondering what he was getting at. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I was.." His speech delayed for a moment as he shoved one hand in his pocket. "I was thinking if you weren't busy maybe we could meet up, work on the project? You know, so Mr. Harris doesn't get a chance to kill us, cause if we couldn't finish before the deadline for some, _I don't know_ , Zombie Apocalypse, God-Forsaken-reason, then I'm 99.9% sure in all the chaos and destruction, he'd still manage to fail us and probably take pleasure in detaching my head from my body." Stiles frowned, picturing the scene. "God, he's one scary dude."

The blonde grinned at his socially awkward behavior, knowing Adrian was capable of such actions. Though before she could utter her retort, the quietness of the library flipped.

"NO! NO! NO! GREENBERG!"

They turned their heads to see the coach, standing near the library entrance, looking down at Greenberg hunched over his feet. "You've got to be freaking kidding me." Finstock winced at the puddle of green vomit under his shoes. "These are brand new! Do you even know much they cost?!"

Greenberg wheezed breathlessly and shook his head, one hand on the counter and the other pressed to his stomach.

"Of course not! They're worth more than you! Is this what I get for coming in here to look for McCall? Speaking of, where the hell is McCall?!" People looked around, technically in search for Scott. The coach looked at them dumbfounded and resumed to his stress relieving yelling. "Forget I asked anything! He better be at tonight's Lacrosse practice!" Bobby flinched at the sight of the boy and pulled him up by his collar. "You owe me a new pair of shoes!"

Greenberg dropped his head back down and let go another uncontrollable set of vomit that surprisingly wasn't green. Students gathered in a circle to check if he was alright, Stiles and Ava included.

"What the hell," Stiles mumbled as he moved closer to Greenberg, placing a hand on his shoulder. He wiggled two fingers then snapped them. "Hey, look at me. You okay?"

Greenberg didn't answer, keeping his head down for the time being, but when he did look up, he caused a string of horrified gasps. Strands of hair laced with sweat–stuck to the top of his forehead. His eyes were crimson red, and the liquid around his mouth was thick and dark as tar. His face and arms started to swell up as he gripped Stiles who balanced him on one shoulder.

After a moment of inspection, Stiles became frantic. "He's about to pass out. Someone call 911!"

And the same time – Greenberg hit the floor.

Some students clambered for their phones to call 911. Others stood back, watching everything unfold.

Ava dove to the ground on the other side of Stiles and helped him turn an almost lifeless teenager over on his side. She touched his head, gulping at how cold he was and how blue his lips turned. She looked at Stiles, who looked up at Finstock, who was utterly surprised and didn't even know what to say or do.

If the paramedics didn't arrive within ten minutes, Beacon Hills was going to have its first death of the year.

 **[...]**

 _'I know how to scream my own name.  
_ _Scream my name.  
_ _I love me!  
_ _Gonna love myself, no, I don't need anybody else.  
_ _Hey!'_

Ava bobbed her head to the music in her car and sang aloud. It felt like music was the only remedy that was capable of clearing her mind. After the library manifestation with Greenberg, paramedics rushed him to the hospital and kept the school informed it was compulsory for him to be under hospital care for a day or two, so the doctor could run some tests. Ava spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about the cause of his condition but thought of nothing cogent.

Ava signaled and changed lanes, spotting the red and blue flashing lights on top of the police cruiser that sped up behind her, through the rear view mirror. She decelerated, trying to soothe her racing heart. Regardless of why she was pulled over, she knew she hadn't violated any laws, but her nerves still got the better of her. The officer sat in his car, and when he finally came over, she rolled down her window for them to communicate liberally.

"License and registration please." The officer who wore a brown pressed uniform respectively bowed. His black boots and gold badge were squeaky clean, his hair was dark and cut short, and his voice was the ideal authority voice that any female would fawn over. He could have even passed for one of those cop strippers people hired for parties.

Ava grasped the mandatory IDs from the glove compartment and handed it to him. He took a step back to observe it, and wrote something on paper, giving the documents back when he was done. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" The girl shook her head truthfully. "Your license plate is registered to the state of Massachusetts, not California. Do you think you can get that fixed by tomorrow? I'd hate to write you up for it."

"Oh.." She had shipped her car from MA during her move and registered with the DMV but forgot to change her plates. "I'm sorry; I'll get it replaced tomorrow."

"Excellent. If you get stopped again, say, Deputy Parrish – 2948, already spoke with you." He handed her the paper he wrote on and smiled. His beam was gorgeous and contagious, and Ava couldn't stop herself from shamelessly smiling back. _She swore she heard angels singing._

The beeper on Parrish's walkie-talkie flicked from red to green, the voice on the other end notifying him there was a 10-19. _Whatever that meant._ The heavenly smile she temporarily fell in love with was on its way back to the police cruiser. But through her mirror, Ava glanced at the deputy who stopped in the middle of the road with his hand hovering over his gun.

It wasn't her brightest idea, but her instinct screamed at her to get out of the car. Ava gradually advanced towards Parrish to see what hazard had imposed, but he held up a hand, indicating she shouldn't move.

"Stay behind me." He murmured.

Ava narrowed her eyes in misconception at the extraordinarily large sized dog that confronted them. It looked like it had some supersonic phantom characteristics. "Are you going to shoot it?"

Parrish moderately drew his weapon – holding the irate mutt's scrutiny. "If I have to."

When Ava's eyes landed on the animal, the canine growled and dove onward. Without reluctance, Parrish took a perfect shot at it, but mysteriously, the black dog didn't go down. He took two more shots, and it approached them quicker, almost as if the beast got more ammunition. Ava proceeded on urge and hurdled in front of Parrish, but he shouted and shoved her back to the side fearing her safety, firing another round of hits. They tangled when she hopped back in front of him and lowered his gun.

Call it Casino luck, God's faith, or Russian Roulette, but as the assailant leaped and landed at their feet it froze in its spot, panting loudly. They stared dumbfounded at the hound whose rancorous persona faded into something…indeterminable.

Parrish made another move, but just when things couldn't get uncannier, the Doberman snarled sympathetically and slowly dropped its head, eyes remaining on its former prey.

Realization set in the same time for both Parrish and Ava. "Did it just...bow?" He whispered, not wanting to trigger the beast. Ava nodded, too astonished to reply with words.

The creature gave them one last esteemed look before it galloped off the road and limped into the woods at its freshly bleeding wounds. After moments of having lost words, the two turned to face each other.

"This may sound crazy, but..I think I would have been incredibly wounded if you didn't lower my gun."

A laugh destroyed Ava's panic, aiding her to feel a bit heroic. "Anytime you need a backup partner, call me."

"I might take you up on that." He chuckled, waiting before saying anything else. "I best be off, got another round to make. Think you'll be okay to get to wherever you're going?" Once she nodded, he did the same.

They voyaged back to their cars, waiting for each other to get safely inside before one of them took off. Once he drove pass, he honked the horn, and she waved.

Her hand raked through her hair before picking up her phone on the passenger seat.

 _Three missed calls, four texts, and two voicemails._ Most of them being from Lydia, saying she heard about Greenberg and if she was okay or affected in any way. She tossed the phone back onto the seat and strapped her seatbelt, making a mental note to reply when she got home. Before putting her car in gear, she looked back to where the dog disappeared and wondered about the many different ways the situation could have gone.

What if the deputy's bullets ran out and he wasn't rapid in reloading?

Where did the durable instinct come from to jump in and save someone she didn't know?

And why was it every time she had an encounter with a dog – it didn't end well?


	9. Chapter 9: The Stilinski's

It had been 7 planetary rotations or "days" into the school year. The vibe of eagerness, elation, and exhilaration was replaced with moody teachers, multiple tests, and heaps of homework. The bodies and complaints of pupils shuffled through the halls, among those scattered whiners was Ava, who looked like she'd already been dragged through the wringer.

"When I die, please get Sarah Mclachlan to sing at my funeral...I want everyone to know I'll be, _In The Arms of an Angel_." She confessed, walking into Lydia's view. But all her objections became buried like TML's dream of winning the Stanley Cup when she saw the girl's attire. "But nevermind that. Who are you all dolled up for?"

Lydia rolled her eyes and strained to subdue her grin. "I dress for me and me alone."

They were standing at the lockers, getting ready to tackle lunchtime.

"Nice try, but.." The blonde wobbled her hand down to the flamboyant top and skirt that hugged Lydia's frame perfectly. "This is very ostentatious, even for you."

"Not a big deal." She swished her hair over her shoulders and postured. "I'm going to have lunch with a friend."

"Aw..Strawberry. You didn't have to get all dressed up to have lunch with _me._ " Ava cooed.

Lydia laughed but more at the fact Ava called her Strawberry, a nickname developed the day after they had rekindled. "Don't get any ideas." She hung her backpack at the back of her locker and recouped a side purse that complimented her pumps. "He's a deputy."

Ava pondered back to the guy - Parrish, she met yesterday afternoon. What were the odds he was the same person? Beacon Hills was a small town, everyone knew or heard about everyone, but surely there was more than one delegate in the county.

Lydia slanted her head and arched the fringe of hair above her eyes, venturing to determine Ava's manner but soon gave up. However, before she could say anything, a petite girl clouded their vision and sent their ears into SOS mode.

"O M G. Lyds!" A five foot nothing munchkin screeched, pulling Lydia into a hug. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!" Sidney Scott – the underling Ava was introduced to on Friday, the gallantry of Lydia, twirled her tight ponytail over her shoulder.

"You saw me this morning," Lydia turned to her after shutting her locker. The shorter girl blinked and painted on a dry smile. "You remember, Ava?" Lydia gandered to her friend, catching Sid's degrading eye roll before turning to Ava and illuminating a beam faker than Ms. Flemming's summer tan.

"O M G. Yeah! It's Avery, right?" Her belch was full of fake enthusiasm, which didn't go unnoticed by any of the six girls. Six because Sidney had three of her minions following her around like she was the Queen of England.

"It's Ava." Her vexation at the dumb blonde, well, _brunette_ , was revealed in a hostile tone.

"O M G." She nodded with slightly widened eyes. "Right. Totally forgot." If Ava heard that stupid _'omg'_ phrase one more time – someone was getting slapped.

" _So.._!" Sidney spun back to Lydia, brushing Ava off like she was _Casper the Ghost_. "I'm having a party this weekend. And you'll never guess who my mom got to play at my party." She clasped her hands together, waiting for Lydia to inquire. But Lydia was in no mood for guessing games and stared at her waiting to hear the big reveal. "The MuMu's!" She squealed, laughing with the girls behind her.

"The MuMu's?" Lydia was unimpressed, she not only demonstrated it in her tone but as a facial feature.

"They're the shit right now." Matt butted in, surfacing out of thin air. He wrapped his arm around Sidney's torso, kissing the nape of her neck. She blushed, nuzzling into his side and gazing into his ocean eyes like she got lost in _Willy Wonka's Wonderland._ Their hands began to cruise recklessly, murmurs filled the area, and the teens put on a full show of kissing and groping – but thankfully, they kept their clothes on. The only thing that disconnected their – Game of Thrones PDA, was the clearing of Lydia's throat.

Ava almost choked as she swallowed. She didn't have lunch yet, but she was confident she just tasted her tuna breakfast from earlier. Matt Warden and Sidney Scott might have thought they were endearing, but in her perspective, they were _disgusting_ with a capital D.

"Everyone's gonna be at my baby's party."

"Sounds fun, but.." Lydia's hand skated off her locker. "Got things to do."

"Come on, Lyds." Matt pleaded, rubbing noses with his girlfriend who stood in an all-too-short, cheerleader outfit.

 _Yep, definitely the tuna._

"It'll be like old times. Remember the four of us? Hangin' out, ruling over losers and dweebs." Matt sent Ava a look when he said his last three words, before turning his attention back to Lydia. "Remember when, you, me, Sid and Jac–."

"Stop." Lydia's right hand mounted up, cutting him short.

Everyone knew Lydia and Jackson had history, but to what extent was unknown to Ava. Whenever she would mention Jackson's name (to say how much she couldn't stand him) Lydia would remain eerily quiet. It was evident Jocky-Jerkson was still a sore topic.

"Now that I know he's going? Not a chance." She stated.

Sidney gave a big pout and looked away. Lydia's face softened, and when Sidney saw it, her frowny demeanor was replaced with a toothy grin, knowing Lydia was wrapped around her finger.

 _Faker McFakerson._

"Here." She dug in her bag and handed her a pink envelope that had blue sparkles around the edges with the name ' _LYDIA_ ' in big cursive letters. Lydia acquired the card, wiping off the glitter that stained her hands. "Only my important and elite BFF's get VIP deliveries. Semi-okay people get theirs by mail and new people aren't cool enough to attend." She coughed faintly, as her followers and Matt laughed at her jab towards, Ava.

In Sidney's eyes, Ava was an ignominy who didn't fit anywhere on the social ladder. To Ava, Sidney was still an ass kisser who was more counterfeit than a Chinese Gucci handbag. It was the same impression she had of her when they first met and it's the same one she had now.

A few more words were exchanged, Sidney doing all the talking and Lydia doing the nodding. The supposed 'cool crew' finally left the two girls alone, leaving them with a chance to resume their conversation.

"The calories I burn talking to that girl, I swear." A sigh transpired from Lydia's lips.

"O M G! I know right? You _so_ don't need track and field." Ava screeched, trying her best to sound like Sid.

Lydia laughed, striding to the south doors of the school. "I'm leaving. I'm already late as it is."

"I'm sure your _'friend'_ wouldn't be too dissatisfied." Ava quoted the word with her fingers.

"Ha ha." Her eyes narrowed as she disputed a snort. "I'm out. Text me later?"

"Duh. I need the 411 of the potential hubby." Ava grinned when Lydia playfully ridiculed her and sprang to the exit.

There wasn't a long distance to go when Ava mentally settled on vending machine food for her lunch, but as soon as she spun around to start her journey, she jumped back at the figure that was inches away from causing a collision. A hand glided to her battering heart when she frowned, watching the back of Stiles who didn't even acknowledge her. He sprinted down the hall and vanished behind a set of stairs. Ava glanced back to see who was on his trail but no one was there. The students who littered the halls were in groups, chilling, talking, eating, and very unaware if a fire were to break out. Despite her better judgment and grumbling tummy, she ended up walking the same direction he ran. When she traced his footsteps, she arrived at the third level, walking into a hallway that greeted her with nothing but a deafening silence.

If every teacher and student were somewhere in the lounge or caféteria eating lunch, that meant classrooms were closed, right?

The teenager tested each door gaining nothing but failure at the knobs that didn't turn. She reached the end of the hall and the last handle she tried, rattled before opening. She didn't have to take another movement to see Stiles at the back of the class, delving through school equipment like it was a sandbox. Ava casually shut the door, compelling him to look up at her, horrified.

"Good God! You scared the crap outta me!"

"Maybe if you're going to sneak around next time, you might want to lock the door!" She automatically whisper-yelled, smirking at Stiles who rolled his hues but contemplated her observation somewhere in the back of his mind. "What are you doing in here?" Her eyes fell to the mayhem he constructed behind him.

"What?" He resembled the platitude _deer-caught-in-headlights_ face.

"The question is in English." Ava moved closer to get a better look, but Stiles stepped back in an attempt to conceal his mess.

"Nothing. Just doing a bit of…nothing." He stammered.

"That doesn't make any sense."

The boy stared at her momentarily before scratching the side of his face in nervousness. "I was looking for information on what happened to Greenberg."

"Okay." Her orbs circled in question. "I get that but-." She gestured to the glass cabinet of books that were under lock and key behind him.

"You mean this?" Stiles twirled a set of short silver keys around his index finger, helping her comprehend how he got into the restricted section. She wasn't certain how a set of classified school books were going to give him the answer, and those keys looked like it belonged to an authority figure, but Ava wasn't sure she even wanted to know anymore.

"Wait..is that Mr. Harris' key?" Her interrogation lasted a second after closer inspection. "How the hell did you get it?"

"He leaves it in his locker every time he goes to lunch."

"You _broke_ into his locker?!"

"It's not breaking in if you know his combination." Stiles revolved and continued his original mission, waving a hand to the door. "It has to be in here. Just, keep an eye out for me."

Ava's mouth became active to dissent but then shut down when she did as directed. There was no point in quarreling – whatever shenanigans Stiles Stilinski devoted himself to, he would always finish. With every passing minute, she crossed her arms and kept her awareness on the entrance. From time to time, she glanced back at the boy who energetically flicked through pages. "Did you find anything?"

He dug around in his pocket for his phone and started snapping pictures. "I think I found some stuff that might help."

In the midst of it all, Ava became diverted with unexpected thoughts. She looked to Stiles who functioned resourcefully, and the only thing that ran through her mind was...

 _Ping!_

Realism struck like lightning when the indistinct sound of a door from the other end of the hall clung before opening. Much to no one's surprise, her face fell when she saw Adrian in the hallway, attention gobbled up by the book in his left hand. Beneficially, his head was down, and as soon as he slid his right hand into his jeans pocket, he made a 360-degree turn and exited the same way he came.

"S-Stiles. Harris was just up here. I think he realized he didn't have his key!" She whisper-yelled for the 50th time.

"Crap." Stiles began replenishing everything in its precise station. " _Crap_!"

"What are we going to do?!" Her blubber was frantic as she freaked out at the thought of getting caught. It wasn't her fault she had only been penalized for allegedly misbehaving once in her life. Trouble wasn't her middle name for crying out loud. _Perhaps she was a 'Mary' in some ways._

"It's okay." He answered with calmness after hearing the escalated hysteria that coated her voice. It did little to ease her nerves but he gave a nod, and made his way to the front, closing the door behind them as soon as they got out. "Don't worry." Stiles may have been clumsy but no one could have evaded trouble like he did. "I know a Lydia-shortcut too."

Flying off the last two steps of the stairs was just the beginning of the journey they had to go through to beat the Chemistry teacher to the basement. They zoomed to the foyer then down the main hall, running like wild African cheetahs. They hopped over backpacks, dodged people who turned corners and ducked from opening doors that could have knocked them down. Both students managed to survive passing through a boiler room that quenched their lungs, as it dished out deadly smoke fumes. They exhaled when they finally arrived in the basement level that consisted of a narrow hallway, dim lights, three cleaning storage's, and a row of blue mini lockers on the right side of the wall.

"Will you hurry up? He'll be here any moment!" Ava snarled at Stiles who fumbled and fought to get the dial lock open.

"Ok, ok! I'm trying, woman!" His hands traveled quickly as his breath hitched.

The staircase door banged open and a set of heavy footsteps inclined. Stiles had already put the keys back and shut the locker, but the slam had an echoing effect. Ava wasn't one to leave anything to chance, so she fleetingly spun to face the wall and hauled out her pen, ruler and notebook, that had more gibberish than Math scribbles.

"I'd say it's about 42 feet, don't you think?" She could only pray her attempt to disguise her croaking voice worked.

Stiles threw her an indeterminate gaze, staring at her notebook then looking back to her when he finally caught on. "Uh, yeah..yeah! And I think these walls are about 18 inches thick. That's enough to evaluate the perimeter and dimensions, giving you the correct square root, once you use the right equ-, ahhh hey!" Stiles was facing the front when he decided to wave to Harris and lean against the locker. Though he nearly tipped over and used the support of his hands to level himself, trying to downplay his humiliating stunt. "...Hey, Mr. Harris! Didn't see you there. W-What's up?"

 _Typical._

The man cleared his throat and Ava intentionally whirled around with an upright look, hoping it would work in their favor. "Mr. Stilinski, Ms. Cassadine. What are you two doing down here? This level is not supposed to be accessible to anyone but teachers."

"We were just.."

"Brushing up on some school facts for a project." Stiles interposed, ingeniously concluding her sentence without a stutter.

 _One brownie point to Stiles._

Harris didn't respond and gawked at him like he was born with two heads. Being under Adrian's glare made Stiles slightly jumpy and everyone who knew a nervous Stiles meant...

"Well.."

A verbal one.

"Not a school project but a community one. Not a community center, cause..cause, we don't have those here. Maybe in the city..." He raised his hands in the air, cheering. "Go Beacon Hills education!"

Ava squeezed her eyes closed in hopes everything didn't go awry. Harris blinked, examining them as if he had some secret lie detecting machine in his eyes. When they didn't quail, he stepped back – still stoical and icy with his tone, looking more at Stiles than Ava. "Consider this your first and last warning, next time I see you, I'll give you detention. Am I clear?"

They nodded in silence and Harris dismissed them, keeping his eyes still as they disappeared out of his sight. When they were on the main level, it was then they were finally able to let out the breath they didn't know they had been holding.

"That was close," He declared.

"Close is an understatement," She sighed once more, grating a hand through her hair.

They stood near a couple of arbitrary lockers watching students push to try and beat the bell that was going to sound off in the halls within a few minutes. "You never did answer my question from yesterday." Stiles graced Ava with his full attention as he stepped closer to her, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "The project, will you work on it with me on Saturday?"

She forgot she never got a chance when he asked in the library yesterday.

"Yeah, of course." There was no harm in meeting on the weekend. The faster they got it done, the better. "Where?"

"The public library on Fedora. It's like, five minutes from here. How does 1PM sound?"

Fedora. The same library she spent her weekends at when she was a child. She couldn't believe it was still around.

"Sounds perfect."

"You might need my number, so.." He rotated his finger.

Ava scoffed. "I'm not an idiot; I don't need to call you if I get lost, I know how to navigate a map."

"I'm sure you do, but just in case you need to call and cancel, then.." He smirked.

Ava rolled her eyes, entering the digits while he called out his number.

 _404-218-0124._

"This has been an eventful adventure but," She staggered backward, motioning to a class that wasn't even her class. _Must be the unexplained nerves kicking in._ "I don't want to be late."

"No. Yeah. It's alright, go. Don't be late." Stiles watched Ava turn away from him. He smiled when a memory floated into his mind. "Ava." She looked up from fishing through her bag, seconds away from ascending the steps of another staircase. "See you in fourth period, wedgies." Ava smiled back and made an 'I'll get you when you least expect it' sign with her hands.

* * *

The public entrance stood out on the side street away from the road. There were two glass doors to walk through to get inside and once inside the scent of fresh mint exploded in the nostrils of guests. On the left was a dispatcher room with a large crystal sliding window and a bulletin board on the wall with all the latest 'wanted suspects' pictures. The central communication section was on the right with multiple chairs for waiting clients. It was where Ava was sitting when it was her turn to be served.

"Good afternoon, welcome to Beacon Hills 23rd division. How can I help you?"

"Hi." Ava stepped to the counter to face the African American officer, with a nametag that read 'Tara,' sitting behind the desk. "I'd like to change my car plates?"

"Alright hun, let me just pull you up." Ava nodded to the woman in the brown uniform. One mouse click, two, and then ten had passed before the lady opted for more information. "Last name, please?"

"Cassadine."

"Spelled with a C or K?"

"C."

Tara scrolled a long way before shaking her head. "Can't find anything, you registered with the DMV?"

When Ava nodded, Tara asked for her state documents. Already prepped Ava handed her the license, ownership, and her insurance card. After what seemed like an hour, it was confirmed Ava was in the system. The front desk agent left and returned with a form for Ava to fill, once filled and paid for, she received a printed copy and a new change of ownership, registered to the correct state. "I recommend you keep your print out just in case you get pulled over, the info might take a day or two to show up in the system." The stamped the papers and license plate sticker was slipped to Ava along with new standard plates. "All your info about expiry and renewing is in the package...and I believe you're good to go, was there anything else I could help you with?"

"Um, no," Ava said goodbye to Tara and was already on her way out the door, but she stopped and spun around when she remembered something she vowed to do a long time ago. "Actually.." She sauntered back to the desk. "Is Sheriff Stilinski in?"

"What can I do for you?" The Sheriff had just sprouted out from his office when he heard the end of the conversation. He didn't see who Tara was speaking to but when he did, he stood frozen, staring at Ava who merited him with a small smile. He indicated Ava to follow him, leading her into his office and shutting the door. He dropped down in his chair and made stiff movements, squinting at the girl who politely declined his offer to have a seat.

"I'm not sure if you remember me, but you worked on a case involving my family many years ago." John placed his folded hands on the table and stared at the youngster who bit down on the inside of her cheek, unsure if she should continue. The man's facial expressions were hard to decipher and it was impossible to tell why. "I...just wanted to come by in person and say thank you for your help."

He broke out of his puzzled look and waved a hand. "Nonsense, it's my job."

"I know, I just wanted you to know it means a lot to me. It still does down to this day."

The sheriff nodded once. "You're welcome."

Their eyes met which increased the ensuing silence, making it very easy for both of them to fidget and flounder carelessly. It wasn't awkward silence, but it was weird the way the Sheriff stared at Ava, like he had something to say, like he knew something she didn't. Ava removed her hand from the back of the chair and began to walk away but just as she got to the door, John called her out.

"Hey, Ava." She turned to look back at a tense John in the chair who shared a thin but surprising smile. "It's good to see you again."

Ava paused then smiled at John before exiting the room. She couldn't say the visit was all hugs and smiles, but it was a good feeling to know it was a step in the right direction, and that meant progress.


	10. Chapter 10: All The Things She Said

The official dilemma set in at 9 in the morning.  
Garments were either too big, too small, too formal, or _too_ ugly – and it made Ava crazy.

After long commitments of early rising, working hard in classes, and helping at the animal clinic, the week would end with a bang. Ava's weekend should have consisted of watching scary television shows, consuming greasy cuisine, and spiraling wildly in her bed while resting. In fact, she _was_ sleeping when her cell vibrated next to her eardrum. Grumbles and groans were incorporated in her arousing, but it was cut short when a notification stretched itself athwart the screen, prompting her to clamber up like a spider from where she laid.

 _She had forgotten._ Today was the day she was due to study at the library with Stiles. _How could she?_

Ava stood in her walk-in closet and sighed when she looked back at the cyclone of clothes dispersed on her bed. The day might have been easier if she settled for her bugs bunny PJ's. Ok. That was a joke. But being left with a jumbled mind, a growling tummy, and an unfilled hand without clothing wasn't fun.

It was 12:20PM when Ava did determine her attire. 12:35 when she exited the shower, 12:42 when she skipped downstairs and found a note from Uncle J notifying her he went downtown for the day, and 12:50 after she ingested her breakfast – fruits, dry cereal, and water.

When Ava did enter the single brown building, all kinds of nostalgia smacked the orphan at a consecutive pace when the atmosphere hissed with things that initiated a few of her senses. Her _ears_ livened to the persistent hum of the printer spluttering out pages. The saccharine scent of a freshly used carpet deodorizer crucially marked her _nose,_ and her _eyes_ skimmed the area, perceiving all the dissimilarities from the last time she'd been there. The round granite desks for writing usage remained the same. Computers were now flat screens instead of heavy backs, providing it be more space efficient, and there was a separate section to accommodate teenagers. Lastly, her personal favorite was still intact – the toddler area. Just like she  & Eva did, little children sat cross-legged on a soft plush carpet, listening to a librarian who read them picture books. Their whispers and giggles were festive as their imagination ran with the wind.

Upon a sudden greeting and a hand on her shoulder, Ava twirled to face a knowledgeable librarian. The female's smile was warm, abiding, and accepting as she introduced herself and clarified the library rules. She went on to say if Ava needed any assistance, she was one call away.

The clock read 1:08 when Ava took a seat on a chair that looked cozy and inviting, quite glad she got the outside view from the large window a stone throw away. 1:12 when she decided to join the divide of people who were sailing up and down the aisles in a desperate exploration of something to read. And 1:30 when she had just finished choosing a book for a random five-year-old. Ava acquired her phone to call her Chemistry partner, but her abrupt need to pee became first priority. She journeyed to the bathroom and finished her duties as quick as the _Road Runner._ As soon as she roamed out of the stall, she froze when she saw a woman at the face basin. _Perhaps she paid her thoughts too much attention and not enough to her surroundings._

The senior who suited herself in a dark sweater and skirt that sagged to the ground cleansed her hands carefully. Strands of long gray hair stuck out from the blue and burgundy headscarf that was tucked neatly around her face. Her old skin sagged down in an ocean of wrinkles, and her blue heels had no effect in boosting her height. The elder gave a small helpless smile as she looked up at the girl who stared at her through the mirror. Ava cleared her throat and quickly walked to the sink to wash her hands, returning an apologetic smile. The more she stared at the lady, the more her smile modified to pity when she sighted the stranger's heterochromia – _different eye color._

 _Ping! Ping!_

Ava's eyes drifted to her pocket that awoke with not one but two text messages. She rinsed her soapy hands and reached the towel dispenser. Before tossing the scrunched paper, her eyes crept to the 5 foot 2 woman one more time, but _something_ was off.

Something in the environment _suddenly_ didn't feel right.

The woman who once had a guiltless smile held a visage that appeared to be wicked and cunning. Her fragility was no more when her eyebrows uprooted, eyes rolling to the back of her head in unnatural malevolence. Ava's _fight or flight_ mode died in seconds when the pale foreigner flew to the door, blocking it with her body. A chill endorsed the room as the elder sized her up, her daunting breath flowing into the victim's face as she exhaled. Her teeth were either chipped or missing, the remaining were yellow with age.

"You." Her nostrils flared as she clutched Ava's arm. Ava bit her lip and tried not to whimper in pain. No 70 something year old should have that much force in their hands. "It is _you_ , they are wanting." She whispered in an eerie English challenged accent. Ava's attempt to push the woman away and flee turned out to be just that – an attempt. "Restore all that is lost and the power will be yours. For she who does not fulfill the prophecy _will_ die."

"Get off me!" It was a struggle to come undone at the lady's grip, but when success kicked in, she sprinted down the hall in a hurry. When she did attain the end and turned the corner, she screamed at the impact of a sudden collision.

"Ahhh!" Stiles had evidently entered the Fedora library with full force as he wheezed and tried to recuperate the lost air in his lungs. He looked up, happy to see he bumped into Ava. "This is becoming a freaky occurrence, where every time we met we're _literally_ crashing into each other." He said in a breathy tone, hand flying to his shoulder blade that throbbed without mercy. "I'm sorry I would've been here sooner but I've been running around all morning trying to help my dad, and when I finally got a chance to text you, you didn't respond. I just got to the parking lot, and I didn't see your car, so I began running and–." Stiles halted when a realization donned on him. "You're out of breath." He tilted his head. "You were running. What's wrong? Is it your car? Did they tow it?"

"No." A breath broke her silence despite her heavy breathing. "No, my car is fine, I chose to walk."

"Then why were you running? Are you okay?"

"I–," Now it was her turn to halt in the middle of a sentence. She tossed her head back for a split second and gulped more air than required. He would definitely think she was crazy if she said an old woman who looked like a popup book from hell held her hostage. "Yeah, I- I'm fine."

Stiles studied every inch of Ava to make sure she was okay. He didn't know how to explain it, but deep down he had a feeling, an adamant one like she had an unpleasant encounter with something or someone. But she didn't seem to have any psychical bruising, so his gut feeling had to be left unattended and her word had to be complied with. She nodded to assure him, _which he didn't buy_ , and both of them began toddling to the youth section, looking for a place to sit.

"Funny you chose this," Ava dumped her bag down on the ground when they stopped at a round table. "It's the same table I sat at when I arrived."

"No way! It's the table I sit at when I come here too." He smirked and gave a nod. "I've got my things, and by how heavy your bag looks I'm sure you're prepped, we should get started."

Ava nodded in agreement and sat across from Stiles, unloading all their required materials. The numbers on the clock frequently changed as they buried their heads and devoted their time to working. Because Ava was still jittery, always looking over her shoulder when she heard a sound - in the first hour, they mapped out and divided the work load in silence. With minimal communication, their project came to life in the second hour, and by the third they were laughing rather loudly as they had finished their assignment, even creating a few alternate ways how chemical metamorphosis should be enhanced.

"Holy smokes," Stiles said, looking at the papers and writing utensils that surrounded them. "We're done. We finished!"

"I know!" Ava smiled, aligning parts of the project into the binder. "And way before our due date, I'd say that's more than impressive."

"Heck yeah, considering we'll be presenting on the–," As Stiles ran a finger down his calendar in search of the date, his eyes enlarged when a rumble from under the table emerged from his side.

A laugh gushed from Ava's lips at how ridiculous the noise sounded. "Please tell me that wasn't what I think it is."

"Hardy har har, quit your laughing. I didn't fart." He deadpanned in derision. He looked at the time and placed a hand on the sole of his stomach. "Just hungry."

"Seems like we're both – how'd you put it again? Oh yeah, Australian farting volcanoes."

He shook his head and grinned at how she referenced back to the time when they were stuck in the locker room. As they made their way out of the library and occupied the sidewalk, their 60-second silence was killed without any awkwardness when she took a step back and turned to face Stiles.

"This has been productive, but I think I should get home." Ava clutched the handle of her bag tautly when a woman passed them upon exiting the library. Her tension chilled out when it wasn't the batshit crazy woman she had been trying to avoid. "I don't want my uncle to summon a search party."

"Yeah, no I agree, it's been great." Stiles smiled a little but not before motioning to his jeep. "Uh, if you're worried about getting home, I can give you a ride if you want it."

"Thanks, but.." Her restlessness set in like a weird Cyrus wrecking ball. The wiser decision would be to take the lift and get home faster, to feel safer in her own home. But her stupidity clouded her judgment, and she declined his offer. "I'll walk, maybe sightsee a little, to see what I've missed."

"Right." Stiles nodded and started backing away, stroking the back of his neck. "No problem. I'll see you at school."

They both waved goodbye and stepped in the opposite direction until they disappeared out of each other's view.

The sun had set, the noise of nature had increased, and the body count on the streets was smaller than an army of ants. Inhaling the crisp air of Beacon Hills was a beneficial excuse for Ava to saunter slowly along the narrow sidewalk. Having lived in the city of Boston most of her life made it nearly impossible to enjoy a peaceful stroll. The gust of breeze picked up, and Ava tugged her coat closer to her shivering body. The inconstant weather was a serious indication that the girl needed to leave her house with a heavier jacket or she'd have died in the cold. She ambled through the cool draft that evoked over the town and tramped through the noisy oak leaves of different colors. The blonde had just stopped at an intersection to cross the street when she scanned the area that was merely quiet. A sense of uneasiness fell onto her and made her press the pedestrian crosswalk button a lot faster. As her eyes fell down to the ground, she noticed a growing shadow. It grew to the point where the shadowy shape had stood behind her less than four feet away. So, without waiting for the light to change, Ava looked both ways, darted across the street, and sprang into the first store she saw. When she realized she was in a Pizza Parlor, she joined a very slow moving line; slow moving because the employee count seemed to be low and the current customer at the counter seemed intent on ordering every kind of pizza topping the store had to offer.

A growing smirk pulled at the corners of Ava's mouth when she skipped ahead of some people. "Are you sure a slice of pizza would satisfy your farting tummy?"

Stiles looked up, a little stunned Ava had appeared by his side. "Actually I plan on getting a whole box." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "What brought you here? Hunger or the need to see my handsome face?"

Her eyes fleeted to his, and she remained quiet for a few seconds until she batted her eyelashes in mockery. "To see your handsome face again, apparently." Her emphasis on the last word was strong, but they both knew it was a joke and therefore, they shared a grin.

Stiles opened his mouth to reply, but his jaw dropped when his eyes landed on Ava's gray t-shirt as she just unzipped her jacket. "Your shirt says GCPD." He stared in disbelief. "Gotham City Police Department, as in Batman? You're a Batman fan?!

The blonde couldn't help but laugh at his excited reaction. "There's no better superhero."

"Hm, a girl who likes Batman?" He tapped his chin pretending to think. "Now that's what I call rare."

"Perhaps, but I'm well familiar with the shows, movies, and the original classics."

"How knowledgeable are you?"

"Are you challenging me?" She folded her arms.

Stiles shrugged a shoulder and fought his smirk that remained apparent. "Maybe."

Ava scoffed, jumping into competitive mode. "You're on!"

"Okay, let's do this." It didn't take him more than three seconds to conjure a question. "Who doesn't know Batman's secret identity?"

"Death stroke."

"Who founded Arkham?"

"Next." The cashier behind the counter called out, ready to serve.

Both teens advanced closer, leaving Stiles to point to what he wanted on the menu before taking out his wallet. "Can I get a large cheese pizza?" When the tellers head was down, he looked back to Ava in hopes to resume with their game. "Victor, Quincy or Amadeus?"

"Thin or thick crust?" The cashier, John, inquired before anyone else was able to speak again.

"Thin," Ava glanced at the teller as he punched buttons on the register. "Multiple choice, really?" She smiled at how easy the questions were and whispered, looking at the menu while Stiles stared at her. "Piece of cake, Amadeus founded Arkham."

"What year-," The man cut Stiles off before he could finish and asked him if he wanted any extra toppings. Stiles declined and let out a huff that went unnoticed by John. "What day and year did the first 15 chapter black and white theatrical serial debut?"

"July 16, 1944."

"Ha! That's wrong!"

"Do you want any snacks or drinks added to your meal?" John probed, fixing his bowtie that seemed too tight around his neck.

Ava answered no in a hurry and spun to face Stiles, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean it's _wrong_?"

"Would you like to upsize to an XL for just $2 more?" The cashier interrupted one more time.

"NO!" They both bellowed in unison, rather annoyed that the man had interjected for the umpteenth time. Both Stiles and Ava were driven, never wanting to be challenged or to lose for the simplest things - competitions included.

"Okay.." John looked at the teens like they were crazy before saying the total was 8.95. They both took out their cash to pay, but Stiles slapped his money down on the table and snatched the receipt from the man who instructed them to stand to the side.

"Stiles, it's 1944, I'm sure of it."

"It was 1943. I should know I'm a super fan." Stiles conveyed, hands waving in the air.

"Okay, then prove me wrong." Ava raised her voice, shaking her head.

"You don't have to ask me twice," Stiles commented with a voice that surpassed Ava's raised tone, phone in his hands as he hit the keyboard without looking. When he did find the answer on Wikipedia, he turned the phone to her and raised his hands in the air, looking like the Statue of Liberty. "Aha! I told you it was 1943!" He quipped, full of pride.

"Fine! It was 1943, _whatever_."

"Aww. Don't be mad that you lost and that I won."

"I'm _not_ mad."

"You are too."

"Am not!" Her response came out like a scowl.

"Alright, whatever you say, you're not mad." He put a hand up in a defensive mode.

"That's right, now leave it alone."

 _They had gone past ridiculous when they turned away from each other._

"Okay."

"Good!"

" _Fine!_ "

They weren't really mad or yelling because they both knew their bickering was in good faith, so when they did end up facing each other, the looks on their faces called for laughter. Ava rolled her eyes at his smirk but ended up laughing when he saluted her and awarded her imaginary points, saying she still did a great job.

In less than three minutes, they had a box full of pizza as they stood in the middle of the parlor. Unsure of what to do when Stiles took a seat, Ava didn't get to protest when Stiles had firmly insisted she should join him and after ten seconds of bickering, she sat across from him. They began to indulge in a long conversation over their fast food, letting the time pass them by. Pop culture, entertainment, and personal interests were the main topics spewing out of Stiles and Ava's mouth, keeping the talks of school to a minimum when Stiles revealed he didn't find anything of interest when it came to Greenberg's condition. Despite the roller coaster of events for the first two weeks of school, both Ava and Stiles was pleased to be enjoying themselves.

* * *

 **A|N:** The prophecy woman who made her debut in the story is one of my favorite characters, and she's going to shake things up. Check out this link to see and hear how creepy she is! Rated G: **youtube.** **com/watch?v=jhr-BQ4ugtg** (remove space)


	11. Chapter 11: Conclusions

Jordan Parrish scuttled to the door the second he pulled into the driveway. He knocked the door as soon as he stood on the welcome mat of the Martin residence. Although he gave no warning of his arrival – he had set out with good intentions, in hopes of achieving his venture for the day. He didn't have to wait too long when he was promptly flung from his reverie by a swinging door.

"Deputy Parrish," Lydia projected with a smile. "Look at what the cat dragged in,"

The officer flicked over the girl who addressed him in lustrous apparel, an amusing sight to his eyes. "I'm more of a dog man." He tilted his head at an angle and flashed one of his captivating smirks. "If you know what I mean."

She freed the entrance by striding to the side, hands enfolded around the door. "Well then, come on in, Lon Chaney."

The door closed, and he sedately entered the main room that appeared rather foreign from the first time he had been there. The place was spic and span like it had just been cleaned; actually, it was one of the cleanest living rooms he had ever seen. There was a creamy, lush sofa planted in between two pulpy chairs. A rocking chair was tucked away shyly in a corner under a tall window from where the sunlight shun through. The fireplace under the many paintings was covered with crystal glass and lavish ancient relics, and the beautifully designed rug had encased the polished floor.

The deputy watched the strawberry blonde amble to the coat closet with his jacket that he absentmindedly dismissed. She returned, signaling for him to follow her. When they reached the bedroom, Jordan wiggled his nose at the cherries and coconut stench that evaded the air. He sat on the end of the bed and watched his host dissolve into one of her many walk-in closets, rummaging around as if it was a garage sale.

"So Deputy, not that I'm complaining, but-." Lydia jested. "What brings you by other than my good looks?"

Her question made his cheeks morph from white to red, but he hid it before she popped her head back in the room. "Um..." He nearly forgot why he was there because face it – Lydia Martin was an enchanting beauty who could have left anyone stunned and dumbstruck. Regaining his senses, he coughed and proceeded to complete the answer to the question. "I'm here because I promised to teach you how to fight."

The teen remained inaudible, happy the pained look on her face didn't meet the eyes of the dark-haired hunk. The agony and terror of Lydia's last incident began to resurface in her mind but was quickly kicked in the butt when she resorted to stubbornness. "You'll teach me how to fight this wardrobe malfunction? I'm glad because I have no idea what I'm wearing tomorrow."

Her attempt to sound cheery was a fail. She knew it and so did he.

"Lydia. You can play dress up another time." His stern tone amplified her silence, which immediately hinted she was in denial. Lydia dealt with a lot after the fight with Tracy two months ago; she was letting on more than she could take. After hearing that Lydia put herself on the line to save her mom, he wanted to be the one to teach her how to get the protection she desired. He cared for her. "It's okay to feel whatever you're feeling." His comment came out with nothing but truth. "I just want you to feel...safe, to _be_ safe."

Lydia sauntered out of the closet, staring at the authority figure. He glanced at her; unable to tell what she was thinking until the silence in the room was defeated.

"Okay." She nodded firmly, taking a step forward. If this meant she had to get down and dirty, to re-injure her bruises, and to battle her inner demons that were waiting to come out and play, just to get some training – then she was ready to kick some ass. "Let's train."

Impressed, the male bowed and got to his feet, relaxing his shoulders. Their session commenced after an acute warm up. Parrish served combat blows like it was on a dinner menu and Lydia effectively blocked them 95 percent of the time. Throughout their training, Jordan instructed Lydia on how to keep her arms up and steady, saying it would be a great opportunity to block assaults to the face. The clock read 2PM when they were orbiting around the room, ready to start round five. Lydia showed improvement after a few more attacks but recently took a vile hit to the right side of her waist.

"You know, you won't be Rambo after an hour, take your time." Parrish supported.

"Keep going," Lydia commanded, trying to soothe her breathing and untamed pulsation. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure? We can stop; I don't want you to strain or provoke anything."

"Nothing is strained." She took off her top, totally forgetting her floral undergarment was on display. Her chest was exposed as she pointed to her crooked scars in healing. "See? My wounds are fine."

Jordan gulped and removed his shirt, tossing it on the bed. The fighters participated in another match, where punches, kicks, and blocks were distributed. His eyes traveled over Lydia's body for a moment, causing him to stumble back at her sudden kick. And right when she thought she had him, that she could win the round, she targeted him again, but he ducked to his left, dipped down, and detained her from behind.

"What was your mistake?" He panted in a husky breathless voice.

"I..my arms-, I forgot to keep my arms up." She winced at his grasp.

"It's fine." His right hand sponged the beads of sweat on his forehead. "Muscles have memory and with the right amount of training, they'll remember for you."

Lydia and Jordan were lost for words as they stood in the middle of her bedroom occupying each other's personal space. His eyes landed on her sweaty body that flushed against his, one hand snaked around her chest and the other scarcely sagging onto her waist.

For the first time in a long time, things became intensified when the pair locked eyes.

* * *

A maze of colorful yarn hung in the air as Stiles moved back and viewed his murder board in frustration. With his father at work and his girlfriend out – he took it as the perfect time to try to find a connection between Theo, Greenberg, and Raymond Pettigrew, but every time he thought he got somewhere, he wounded up with a garbage bucket full of crumpled papers. Rolling his eyes, he tossed his red marker on the desk and erased his messily written theories on the white board. He swore not to stop until he deciphered the motive, but for now, enough was enough. The need to relish in the rest of his Sunday – starting with a shower, became his calling.

Stripped to the nude, Stiles jolted to the shower, lathering, scrubbing, rinsing, and repeating the same steps all over his body. He stood under the showerhead and let the hot water plummet onto his skin, divulging into his thoughts that failed to grant him a peace of mind. 30 minutes later, he treaded into his bedroom with only a towel draped around his waist, slinking over to the window. His lips curved into a small smile when his gaze fell down. The grass was green, the clouds were milky white, and even though it was chilly, the scent of freshly baked oatmeal cookies wafted throughout his nostrils. The boy pried the silver slats of his window closed, seizing the incoming of the cold mid-September air, but stopped when his bedroom door flew open. By the time he turned around, a pair of lips had attacked him.

"Hi."

"Hey." He stilled, looking at Malia who muttered into his mouth, cloaking her arms around his neck. It had been so long since they had a proper kiss, yet alone, an intimate touch, he couldn't blame anyone for his puzzled reaction. "Hey. Did you find anything?"

"No." She massaged her temples. "Another day wasted of looking for the Desert Wolf."

Stiles frowned, unsure of what to say. No matter how tough Malia was, or how she tried to downplay her emotions, he knew finding her mother was important to her. The word of the Coyote's mother being in town first came alive three months ago, and since then Malia's been tracing her every move. Stiles realized her lead was getting colder and colder every single day. He felt like it was his duty to say something, but doing so would just open an unwanted assortment of problems. _After all, things were still tense from last night._

Yesterday, after having his little study & pizza outing with Ava, he dropped by Scott's house. They finally got around to playing video games, and downing energy drinks like old times sake. Like usual they spoke about any and everything as they played Mortal Combat, and when Stiles told his best friend about his girlfriend problems, Scott insisted that there was an underlying problem, which was the cause of their fading chemistry. The Sherriff's son quickly shook his head and shut the nurse's son down, heavily insisting that he couldn't abandon Malia, that she provided light in his darkest days, and that _she_ was there with him through everything. Hearing this, Scott lived up to his best friend duties, telling Stiles _not to worry_ and _that things would spontaneously work out_. That night Stiles found it quite ironic to walk into his bedroom with a completely naked Malia covered with his used and abused sweaty Lacrosse shirt. For weeks, she'd been tiptoeing around him, and now she was nothing but smiles? Stiles wasn't an idiot, he knew Scott spoke with Malia, and while he appreciated his friend for looking out for him, he didn't take Malia up on her offer of 'hot steamy sex.' Part of him was disappointed, she didn't willingly fix their problems because she wanted to, but because Scott told her to, or the very least – suggested the idea. The other part of him, the lively and buzzing part when he was in Ava's presence, had died when he walked through his front door, and since then – he just wasn't in the mood to do much of anything.

"It's okay." As much as their emotions of, disappointment and irritation, were concealed, they both still had a need to caress if one of them were hurting. "You'll find her, eventually."

Malia nodded, giving an expressionless stare. It didn't last long when she took off her jacket and abruptly jerked Stiles forward by the hand. He fought with both hands to hold onto his towel that was being yanked away, lips barely escaping hers. "Uh.." He moaned. "No no no, wait! I've–, I've got no clothes on."

But the coyote didn't respond – she was frustrated – emotionally and sexually. All she wanted was to feel again, and if that meant having sex, then she was going for gold. She growled and pulled him by the shoulders, kissing him eagerly, and ignoring his incoherent protests. She tried many things to gratify him, to _wow_ him, but the only thing that provoked him was when she said the words, "I ran into Theo today." that came out between kisses.

Stiles was too unfocused to reply at first, from all the existing gripping and rubbing, but when he did convalesce himself, his light soiled orbs widened in disbelief. "What?! What happened? What did he do?" He grilled, not giving her the probability of finishing her sentence, wondering why she didn't bring the topic up right away. "I mean did you follow him? Do you know where he was heading? Did he even speak to you? What did he say?"

"St–."

"Please tell me you caught him doing something." He intervened on instinct. "Was he alone or was he with someone, because if he wasn't then it cou–,"

"Stiles!" Malia snarled, trying to get him unflustered. For the past two weeks, all she ever did was listen to him demonstrate how badly he wanted to _pin Theo's sorry ass_. "Nothing happened. He came up to me, and asked where he could find the closest hardware store."

"That's it?" He ran his hand through his damp hair, spinning in frustration. "That's all he asked?"

"He asked a question, I answered."

Quietude clouded the atmosphere for over a minute.

"What would he want in a hardware store?"

"I don't know, probably housework?" Stiles made a face at her remark, and she rolled her eyes. The girl suspended the fidgety boy's gaze with her eyes that changed sky blue. "Are you going to let Theo drive you crazy?" Her murmur was low and mischievous as she strolled over to him. "Or are you going to take my mind off things?" The girl leisurely unbuttoned her top, running her hands over her body.

He didn't want to. He really didn't want to engage in the same activity she wanted, but when his eyes fell down to her bouncing breasts, his penis began to swell underneath his white towel. The doe-eyed brunette knew she had him wrapped around her finger when he couldn't speak. So, she pushed him roughly, causing him to fall back on his bed. In seconds, she pinned his wrists over his head, leaving kisses from his jaw line to his stomach, while he reacted with deep grunts of ecstasy. The rest of her clothing peeled off her body like a facemask and she took pleasure in detaching his towel with her teeth. She was just about to go down on him when he immediately stopped her, reaching for his boxers.

Malia didn't take kindly to Stiles' actions when he got up and moved away. "What?" She groaned. "What's wrong?"

"I'm such an idiot!" Stiles scrabbled on the bed, diving for his phone. Malia duplicated her question but he was too busy dialing numbers as fast as his fingers would allow, snubbing the naked beauty who strained to get his heed. "Thank God you picked up!" He practically screamed into the cell.

"Stiles, you have the worst timing." On the other end of the line was Scott, who had the phone compelled to his ear. "I'm about to do something NC-18 with my girlfriend. This better be an emergency."

"I think he was poisoned!" Stiles blurted out.

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"Just hear me out. Remember when Pettigrew's body indicated signs of irregular inflammation after a week from his death?"

"Yeah?"

"And remember how I told you Greenberg had gone through the same swelling in the library before he passed out?"

"Yeah..?" Scott was ardent to hear where their conversation was going.

"The only thing that can cause that is hematemesis."

"Hema–, who?"

"Hematemesis – vomiting blood due to a heavy dose of acid." Stiles sat up on his bed, speaking like he was reading the definition straight from a dictionary. "His blood was very dark, very thick, and almost black. I've hardly ever seen anything like it."

"So...that means his blood was in contact with acid?" Scott queried, getting an idea of what Stiles meant.

"Exactly. Thus? Making him susceptible to slow poison." He lulled, licking his lips. "Scott, Greenberg was targeted, and so was Pettigrew."

"I get Greenberg being poisoned.." Scott nodded, even though Stiles couldn't see him. "But Stiles, you saw it yourself, Pettigrew had a slashed throat. Why poison someone then slash their throat? What's the motive?"

"I don't know, but there's someone who might."

Scott took a moment to process what his partner in crime had been saying, when he didn't respond, Scott quickly caught on. "Dude. _No_. Absolutely not."

"Dude, yes! We need to go see Greenberg, _like_ tomorrow."

"Are you crazy? He's still in intensive care. No one can see him yet, and I don't think it's a good idea."

"You don't–, you don't think it's a good idea?! Scott, Greenberg _almost_ died, he _could_ have died!" Stiles roared through the other end of the phone. He knew he should have gone with solid proof, but he couldn't shake the gut feeling that kept rising within him. "Just…just trust me on this."

"Are you doing this because you don't trust Theo or because you really want to find out who's behind this?"

A cessation had settled in Stiles' throat before he responded, but when it disbanded, he spoke without dubiousness. "Both. If he was the one who killed Pettigrew with whatever he construed, then he could have easily got to Greenberg."

The alpha persisted to be mute, knowing Stiles was right.

"Scott, please. Even if it's not Theo, someone is out there, _killing_ people."

After seldom arguing, pinpointing spots and deciding what time was best to go – both of the boys settled on an executed plan that was taking place tomorrow.

* * *

The intensity wore off once the consciousness kicked in and Lydia had never moved so quickly away from Parrish as she had done at the moment.

Lydia gnawed at the lump in her throat and scampered to put her top back on. She spun away, countering she needed some air, leaving a confused deputy to follow suit. A stroll, a quiet conversation and a couple of heart filled smiles later, Jordan and Lydia stopped at one of the oldest sights in town. Built in 1922 by the sons and daughters of the town's founders – Beacon Bridge was made of steel, board, and concrete, supported by huge silver columns that extended to a depth of over 120 meters over the cleanest, bluest river. On bright moonlight nights, one was able to witness vacillating stars reflecting on the blue water – and the bridge itself, shining like a light bulb. However, in the day, it was just as pretty – looking like white heaven arches emerging from the blue skyline from far away.

Starstruck, both Lydia, and Jordan watched around the premises in silence and awe, but when the deputy thought he heard a sound coming from the left side of the bushes, he stopped and drew the girl into his arms.

Lydia glanced at him, perplexity drawn all over her face. "What are you doing?"

"Uh.." He felt discomfited when a butterfly flew out of the green bushes. "Nothing."

The red headed genius smiled, appreciating how protective he was. She moved to remove herself from his arms, taking a step forward, but her heel became stuck between the boardwalks and she almost fell. It was instinct for him to jump out and catch her while she grabbed on to him for support. Without thinking, his hand flitted down to her waistline and although Parrish was still like a statue, Lydia wiggled, struggling not to catch his gaze but it was too late.

His green eyes sparkled. _Her heart jumped._

 _He knew what he wanted._ And she knew what she felt.

All their thoughts, concerns, and wonders disappeared. And maybe something could have happened if...

"Lydia?"

...Natalie Martin didn't interrupt them.

" _Mom_?" Lydia swirled, squeezing her eyes shut when she remembered her mother made plans for them to spend the day with her estranged father.

"I thought I told you to be ready for 4?" Natalie's arms were crossed and her inquisitive glare was undeniably dangerous. "We have somewhere to be."

"But, I–."

"No." She shifted her gaze to the officer before snapping her fingers in her daughter's direction. "We're already late as it is. Move it."

Both Parrish and Lydia leveled themselves, apologizing to each other by their eyes and not with their mouths. With perceptible resistance, they broke apart – leaving a sulking Jordan standing in the middle of the bridge, staring at the girl who fought the urge to turn back and run into his arms.


	12. Chapter 12: Endless Bummer

The sunlight poured through the white blinds of the window and the only sound heard throughout the whole house was Stiles' noisy snoring. Just then, a buzzing filled the room, sending the boy in a sleepy stir to stretch his muscles. It took a moment for his dim vision to adjust to the room's bright natural lighting but when he became aware that his phone was ringing – he scrambled to his feet – only to fall out of bed and onto the floor when he lost his balance.

"Hello?" He drawled, not bothering to look at the caller ID, stifling back a yawn.

"Hey." The bright afternoon sun cowered away when Ava stepped through the double doors and into the foyer, making a beeline for her locker. "I'm here. Where are you?"

"Where am I?" The boy repeated; face palming himself when he remembered where he was supposed to be. He rose from the ground swiftly but tripped over his feet on his way to the bathroom to freshen up. "I'm uh; I'm practically out the door."

"Out the door, huh?" Ava's bag dropped from her shoulder and onto the ground as she turned the dial knob, narrowing her eyes. "And why is it I can't hear any other vehicles around you?"

Stiles jumped out of the bathroom in changed clothes and slid down the wooden banister, heading to the kitchen in search of a breakfast bar. "I'm at a stop..?"

"You know we have to get this done today, right?" She expressed in a serious tone more than a questioned one. "Are you even close?"

"Who me? Y-yeah." He ran out the door and pulled it shut lightly, skating to his jeep. He backed out of the parking lot and sped down the road, skidding to a forceful stop when he mashed the brake, trying not to run the red light. "I'm like..almost there."

"I can't believe you!" She claimed upon hearing the screeching tires, balancing the phone between her left ear and shoulder while tossing necessary items in her bag. "You're totally driving!" She switched her phone from one ear to another, slamming her locker shut. "You need to get here."

The dark haired lad floored his gas pedal and sped down the lane like a lightning bolt. "No no no! I am here." He pulled up in a parking lot, jumping out of his jeep. "I'm outside." He began running towards the building when he saw a figure through the glass window. "I think I see you. Turn around."

And when Ava turned around she was greeted by her Biology partner who balanced their class project in one hand and her cell phone sticking out from a bag full of makeup in the other. Just like Stiles who was greeted by his best friend when he pulled him into a room of safety in the Beacon Hills local hospital.

While Scott and Stiles rushed to interrogate Greenberg in whatever room he was in, Ava and Lydia strutted into class, settling down right before Ms. Flemming came in and chose them to present their project first. Precision may have been an issue, but one thing was for sure – the day was going to be an eventful day.

 **[...]**

It might not have seemed like it, but the day went by in a hurry, for Ava at least. She and Lydia presented their plant project, wowing Flemming and their classmates with adroitness. Her spare flew by as she got lost in reading one of her favorite books, and by the time lunch rolled around, it ended before she had even finished eating.

The girl had just exited her English Literature class when she bumped into a friendly face – Mason Hewitt. As they conversed while they trekked north of the school to their fourth-period destinations, Ava apologized for not showing up at lunch without a warning. However, much to her surprise, she was shocked to find out her apology wasn't needed because no one was at the table they usually sat at. Apparently, Scott and Stiles weren't in school for the day. Liam was sick. Lydia and Kira signed out the beginning of lunch and Mason? He spent the whole hour taking a redo of his Calculus test. Ava made a joke about everyone's sudden absence, but Mason merely chuckled and changed the topic – something that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes and parted ways. It wasn't long until she flew out of Arithmetics class and made her way to her last period of the day. It was about ten minutes into Chemistry when Harris began his lesson, leaving Ava to turn back and look at the rest of empty chairs that sat atop the desk. Just like Mason had conveyed, Stiles and Scott were nowhere to be found and not that she minded, but even the brunette intimidator, also known as Malia was nowhere in sight. Thinking of it now, neither Theo nor Greenberg wasn't present in English class.

"...Ms. Cassadine? Ms. Cassadine, did you hear what I said?"

"Huh?" Ava was thrown from her thoughts when she looked up to find Mr. Harris staring down at her with raised eyebrows and a pointer in his hand. Perceptibly, she had tuned out for longer than she thought. _20 minutes had already gone._ "Sorry, what?"

"I said. You'll be the one to enlighten Mr. Whittmore on our recent work followings, yes?"

Ava blinked rapidly, wondering if she suddenly went deaf while daydreaming or if she heard Mr. Harris correctly. Though the answer was presented to her in a loud noise when a chair screeched, pulling up against the floor, a bag hitting her foot to ensure she wasn't dreaming. Looking from Harris to Jackson Ava's mouth opened, but when Adrian raised his eyebrows, daring her rebuttal, she fastened her dropped jaw and nodded in response. The Chemistry figure turned away, and roamed back to his desk, satisfied he didn't have to maintain the teacher-student-relationship any further. Ava's gleam became steadily permanent when her pupils landed on the jock next to her, all evidence of her happy demeanor fleeing when he returned the glare.

"What are you looking at?" Jackson rudely spat, slapping his pink slip down on the table.

"Excuse me?" She scoffed, amazed how her fellow peer brought out the annoyed side of her in a heart beat. A breath glided through her body as she scrunched her fingers, trying to simmer her oncoming frustration.

 _Jerk._

"Qu'est ce que tu regardes? O que você está olhando?"

Ava's twitch was hardly noticeable when she rolled her eyes at the fact Jackson didn't pass up a chance to show his intelligent linguistics. "I speak French."

"Great, so if you understood me in English why'd you make me waste my time and say it in two different languages?" He grumbled, staring his opponent dead in the eyes.

If the school's renowned bully thought he could have butt heads with the faultless orphan and have the final say, just like in fourth grade, then he thought wrong. The proof was coming.

"Look, it's taking everything in me right now not to pick up this Chem book and hit you on the head. I don't like this idea of being chosen – no, _forced_ , to fill you in on work any more than you do." She seethed, blood boiled higher than ever. "So, I'd appreciate it if you could _shut up_ and let me enlighten you on what you missed so we could go our separate ways. Got it? Good!"

The Lacrosse player clenched his jaw, clearly ready to fire back with a brutal attack but was interrupted when another voice cut in.

"Is there a problem?" The teacher inquired in annoyance, glaring at the two students who spoke louder than their attempted whispers.

"Not at all." Ava put on a fake but believable smile. "We were just getting started."

Harris nodded contently and went back to doing whatever he was doing. It wasn't a moment after til Jackson and Ava's glare clashed but came to a nonspeaking agreement to not communicate unless it was about the Chemistry notes. Ava's eyes had drifted to the clock before she started to retrieve all her necessary notes. The sooner she started, the easier it would be for her to pack up and leave to go help Deaton at the clinic, a place that was sure to mitigate her mind.

* * *

 **A|N: So, in case you didn't understand the phone part between Ava and Stiles, I tried to recreate the scene from 'Friends With Benefits' scene starring Mila & Justin. Where he's at work, but gets a phone call and it looks like he's on the phone with Mila, but really he's talking to his girlfriend, and it looks like she's on the phone with Justin, but it's her boyfriend? Therefore, Ava's not really talking to Stiles, she's talking to Lydia and Stiles is talking to Scott. **

**Okay, that must have been so confusing. Anyway, do excuse this filer. The real fun is right around the corner.**


	13. Chapter 13: Doppelgangers

**A|N: I'm sorry that I haven't updated in 960 hours** **, [Trump won so I'm moving to Canada] I mean, HAHAHAHAH, I've been busy. On the bright side, I'll be back to my regular updates. Oh and have you guys watched S6 of TW yet? I have! Tell me in your revieeews. [: Enjoy this extra long chapter.**

* * *

"You did _what_?!" Rumbled a female.

"I um..." A male voice stuttered.

"Speak up!"

"I snuck into the room!"

Melissa looked at Scott, then pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek before hitting him on the head with a rolled up newspaper. The McCall duo had stood near the secretary desk in the Beacon Hills hospital, conversing about her son's unannounced visit to her workplace. She was enlightened on all the facts about Stiles' murder theories, Theo, and including him sneaking into the hospital room to question, well, _interrogate_ , as she so harshly declared, a sickly pale Greenberg.

"You said you wouldn't get mad if I told you!" Scott rubbed the area he was sure had a red bump.

"I lied." The nurse tossed the harmless weapon behind her, frowning at the boy she deemed a mischief maker. "Do you have any idea how much of an idiot plan that was?!" She half clamored, crossing her arms. When there was no response from the 18-year-old, a light bulb went off in her head. "Of course you do because it was your partner in crime who suggested it, wasn't it?" She did all, but throw her hands up in the air.

Scott closed his eyes in fear of getting hit, one eye peeking down at his mother who shook her head at what the boys get up to in their spare time. "Sorry?" He put on his best signature puppy look and lowered his head.

"One of these days, someone _will_ be sorry if you don't return home in one piece."

The boy rolled his hues feeling like a child. "Mom, I'm not a little kid I can take care of myself."

Melissa also rolled her eyes and crouched over. "Yet you're walking around with your shoelace untied." She wrenched his leg forward, tying the black lace despite her scowling – call it a mother's protective instinct. She stood up and leaned in, not wanting the other employees to eavesdrop on their conversation. "You really think you can find a link between whatever's happening?"

Scott nodded, pacing slowly towards the elevator. "These accidents..." He started. "Incidents. They were different. But they all have one thing in common."

"The black blood." Melissa verbalized.

He upthrusted one of his shaggy brows. "You knew?"

"When Greenberg came in with it all over his shirt? Yeah, I made the connection. I was the one who dealt with Pettigrew's body, remember?" She looked up at the elevator that was two levels away. "Do I even want to know what you're going to do about this?"

"Nothing yet." He shrugged. "We'll wait it out."

"And if you come across a dead body or two?" Came the hesitant voice of the mother who didn't want to, but had to ask.

"If that happens, which it won't because I won't let it happen, then..we'll be ready." He gave his affirmative with a confident nod.

The dark haired woman repaid the gesture, inhaling to stabilize her breathing. One part of her knew it wasn't a good idea – heck, anything related to the supernatural was a bad idea, but the other part of her knew, Scott, like always, was trying to help those in need and prevent any more deaths by the hands of whatever monsters roamed the town.

When the elevator arrived, Melissa looked at her son – a look that only a mother would understand. Her smile was small when Scott strode in and compressed the 'open' button to keep the silver doors from sliding closed.

"See you later?" Her hands were shaking beyond her control. "In one piece?"

"Later – in one piece," Scott repeated, his lovable brown orbs never leaving Melissa as the elevator closed and took him down to the main level.

Theories upon theories ran through Scott's mind, but what hurt the most, what broke a little piece of him every time was when his mom looked at him like he wasn't going to make it back home, like it would be the _last_ time she would ever see him. As he departed the medical building and walked to the parking lot to kick his motorcycle into gear, Scott swallowed his worries with a hefty sigh. No one was going to harm his family, his pack, or his town – not if he had any say in the matter.

 **[...]**

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. McCall." Harris proclaimed, never lifting his head from the paper he read. "Are you going to sit down or hang in front of the door like a useless for sales sign?"

Standing at the door of his last class, Scott's attention flickered back and forth from his teacher to the new and unexpected faces in the classroom. A hand of dispersed giggles transpired from around the room – and only then, did Scott snap out of the trance he was in. He cleared his throat, striding over to the back of the class upon being summoned by a face he knew.

"Ok, fill me in." Scott deposited his backpack on the floor, still swiveling his head from side to side. "Where did all these new faces come from?"

"Hi to you too." Malia twiddled her pencil, gawking at the scruffy beard growing on the alpha's face. She had forgotten to mention to him that she transferred to the Chemistry class almost a week and a half ago. But with everything go on, it slipped her mind. Not to mention he was absent from class all the times she was present.

"I didn't mean you." He addressed Stiles with a nod who also nodded to him in acknowledgment. "I mean..." He pulled a chair to sit down and pointed to the former Lacrosse captain with his thumb. The three of them looked at Jackson who, as if on cue, looked back at them with a grimy scowl. They resumed speaking when he wheeled to face the front.

"Beats me, we walked in to find him sitting there with that ghastly look clouted across his face." Stiles pitched in.

"Forget about him. What are we going to do about the wolf in the school?" Malia probed, rolling her eyes at Stiles who winced at her loud choice of words. The girl had met up with Scott and Stiles much later in the hospital yesterday, playing the scary cop during the questioning. It was a tad awkward when Scott insisted on speaking to Greenberg alone, leaving her alone in the hallway with Stiles who did nothing but stare at her. It couldn't have got less awkward when she walked away from him, claiming she 'had a lead on the Desert Wolf' and had to 'leave that very moment' and that 'he shouldn't follow her because she wouldn't be able to protect him if anything were to happen.' After Scott had returned with certainty that there was nothing else Greenberg could have mentioned, the boys ditched going back to school and decided to work on their sparring at their hidden sanctuary, accompanied by Lydia and Kira later in the afternoon. It turned out to be one of the most pleasant days the group had encountered in many months.

Scott's phone lit up on the light wooden table – interrupting the staring contest between the human and coyote. He picked it up when he saw his youngest beta's name flash across the screen. "Think we just got our answer." He turned his phone toward them, so the text was visible. "Look."

Message received:  
2:58 P.M.

 _'Turned the corner to hear Theo on the phone saying he's going to  
_ _'take care of someone.'  
_ _Whoever he was speaking to agreed to meet him. Felany Ave, 4:45 sharp.  
_ _Scott, it didn't sound good.'  
_ _-_ Liam _._

"He's up to something. If we don't follow him now, we'll never know." Stiles reckoned.

"Follow him? You mean kill him," Malia calculated unequivocally.

"No," Scott whispered.

"Why not? Grab him, slice his throat, it's not that hard." The brunette elucidated.

"I'm always up for killing the bad guys." The boy with ADHD admitted, shrugging without a twitch of remorse.

"No, we follow him and debrief him." Scott knew Stiles opted for ripping out Theo's throat without mercy, but the alpha didn't press on with the matter, if they could have approached Theo a different way, then that's what they were going to do. "We'll use force if we have to," He nodded to make sure they understood him. "But no one dies, unless it's life or death. Understood?"

Stiles slouched in his chair, but eventually agreed with a drastic sigh, knowing his best friend all too well. Malia challenged Scott with a stare down, but in the end, submitted when Scott stood his ground. Conversations resumed and text messages were sent to the rest of the group to inform them to cancel all evening plans. Adrian's loud command brought Scott's consciousness to life when students picked up their belongings and shuffled around the room. Forgetting they were in the middle of class, Stiles pulled Scott up by the arm, quickly filling him in on the mini class project, while moving to their new destination – table #3.

Jackson was the first person to pull a chair to sit next to a gloomy Ava who was already sitting at table number three. Then came Malia, followed by Scott, Stiles and, as labeled, Jared-the-nerd. If air were edible, it would have tasted bitter because the atmosphere was beyond tense. All six students stared at each other for what seemed like a decade until Jared piped up asking when they would begin the project. He got his answer when Malia striked him with a very minatory blaze.

"Can you stop?" Stiles shot Jackson a glare, who annoyingly began tapping his pen on the desk, the noise increasing just like the tension.

"Can you _stop_ talking?" He fired back, ignoring the looks he banked. "Are we going to start or are you all brain dead idiots that aren't good at anything?"

Stiles was seconds away from a scathing response when someone beat him to the punch.

"Coming from someone who failed Art class?" Ava disclosed, eyebrows curved in vexation. "You're one to talk."

Jared burped earning a scrunched nose from Stiles, a glare from Jackson and an unreadable look from Malia. Jackson then turned his attention to the girl who wasn't afraid to stand up to him, glaring like he was mentally stabbing her. "And who the hell told you that, Clutzilla." He expounded, referring to her fall on the first day.

"Um," Jared gravitated at the growling coming from his stomach. "Guys?"

"How Lydia put up with you and your disgusting filth is beyond my comprehension." Ava countered back, dismissing the nerd like everyone else.

Jackson shrunk his eyelids and chuckled cruelly. "Least my supposed _filth_ didn't kill anyone."

"Guys.." Jared's whisper plea for someone to pay attention to him grew louder, but no one looked in his direction.

"I. Didn't. Do. Anything." The blonde mentioned through grinded teeth.

"You know at first, I thought you looked familiar," The jock voiced, crossing his arms like he had already won the war before it really started. "But I couldn't be too sure, it's not like I keep up with the losers and comers of the school." He shrugged nonchalantly. "But when I overheard a little strawberry-blonde blabbering to someone about a fire, the memories hit me."

"Jackson," Stiles uttered sternly, warning him to be careful.

"What?" Malia's brows scrunched – the happenings of trying to derive a conclusion.

"You didn't know?" Jackson smirked, feeling like he got a major one over the girl he perceived to be his enemy. "There was a fire that killed ten people, and she was the only one who survived." He leaned back in his chair, content with his intent.

The pencil that Malia had been twiddling finally broke, and not only did the eyes of all the people on table number three fly to Ava but the majority of the class as well. With everyone staring at the source of the commotion, hands were thrown over mouths, gasps were let out, and even the erected head of the quiet teacher turned the last few heads. Ava's mouth opened, but no words came out, due to the fact Jared released a thick set of vomit on the floor. Ava used the back of her hand to wipe her nearly fallen tears. She stood up and bolted out of the room despite Adrian's hollering and protests. In a bone-chilling, pitiful silence, Stiles and Scott looked at each other, Malia looked at Jared who was still heaving, and the rest of the class watched their flustered teacher who mumbled something about teenage drama. Before anyone else could be lectured, the bell rang and students were out of the class faster than minute rice. Malia led the way from the exit, with a shocked Stiles and Scott on her tail, running into the remainder of their gang in the foyer.

"Hey," Kira jumped to Scott's side, gracing him with a light kiss on the cheek.

"Mmm." He caressed the side of her face, thrilled he just experienced something sweet. "Hey."

"Err." Stiles quickly became nauseous. "Enough with the PDA." He waved his hands. "Scott, fill them in already."

Liam and Mason listened to Scott explain what happened when he went to see Greenberg in the hospital the previous day. He kept the details short and simple, letting them know Greenberg befriended a stranger who offered him a pack of nuts on the way to his next class."

"And not an hour later, he collapsed in the library," Stiles concluded.

"So, he didn't see the person's face?" Asked Mason.

"Apparently not. The person was covered with a hood and wore all dark clothing. Greenberg's memory was fuzzy – it still is." Scott said.

"Does Greenberg remember anything else? His cough? How did he sound? How he smelled?" Liam projected.

"He did remember one thing, that the guy donned a small werewolf face on the back of his right hand."

"You-know-who doesn't have any tattoos, does he?" Kira publicized.

"Nope, but dark clothing, a werewolf tattoo and need to poison someone?" Stiles fixed his collar and pointed to himself. "That's good enough for me." He was only able to march toward the foyer stairs when Scott pulled him back by his backpack. "Whoa. Scott! Let me go! We have to get a move on–." Stiles stopped ranting when he was spun around to see Ava walking towards them.

The same time, Lydia came from the auditorium, paying awareness only to her phone. "You guys should really make up your minds before last minute stakeouts; I was supposed to go shopping," The Banshee mumbled, swinging her purse from her arm. Looking up to where everyone else was staring, she waved Ava over with a smile but frowned when Ava walked past the seven of them like they didn't exist. "What just happened?" The girl was authentically perplexed as she glanced at the boys for some sort of clarification.

Stiles didn't hear Lydia, he was too busy watching the door Ava exited. And not wanting to say what happened, Scott sighed, trying to be as cryptic as possible. "Jackson.." He whispered.

Lydia's face fell, as she sharply understood what he meant. Her eyes flittered shut, sorry that she had even spoken about the fire with someone else. She took a step forward to go after Ava, but Scott shook his head. She nodded, still mentally facepalming herself. She promised to give Jackson an earful the next time she saw him.

Eventually, the crew waltzed out the premises whilst going over a plan. They broke apart when it came to transportation, all reaching Felany Avenue within minutes of each other. For the actual stake out they were all crammed in Stiles' jeep. Malia in shotgun, Lydia behind her, Kira behind Stiles, Mason in the middle, and Scott next to him. And Liam? Well, he was in the rear.

"Stiles." He called, popping his head into view from the trunk. "You need a bigger truck."

"Liam." Stiles scoffed. "You need a smaller mouth, and I don't know, maybe your own car. Right Scott?" He feigned for support.

"I'm with Liam." He smirked. "Your jeep is kinda old, dude."

"Ol–? Old?!" Stiles whipped his head around with an unbelievable expression, quivering his mouth in disagreeance. "Never mind your opinion. What the heck do you know? Who even asked you?" He swiftly beckoned.

"You did," Scott smirked when Stiles glared at him through the mirror.

"What time is it?" Mason quizzed.

"4:20," Lydia answered. "Why?"

"I feel wandering hands behind me, and it's making me a _little_ bit uncomfortable."

Most heads turned to look at Scott and Kira who had guilt written all over their face, them, instantly breaking their hands away from each other.

"Is that why you reek of se–."

Scott's hand flew to Liam's mouth in embarrassment, coughing as the beta continued to mumble, earning some small chuckles.

Somewhere between driving to Felany and parking his jeep, Stiles couldn't resist texting Ava to see how she was doing after the blow-up. He found himself staring impatiently at the phone. When it finally lit up, he powered it on in a hurry, only to see a text from his father saying he would be working overtime. He replied but threw his head back into the headrest; staring at the entrance of the forest. Felany Avenue was technically an abandoned forest on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. In ways, it appeared to be similar to the forest entry of Beacon Hills, but Stiles felt there was way more to Felany than most people knew. It seemed cold, spooky, and deadly – like a dark and gray place where every ounce of soil squeaked with the voice of a hundred tortured souls. Shadows devoring even the brightest light from the sun, but it just could have been his imagination. The last few minutes passed by in silence until a person in a dark hoodie by-passed the trees. One by one, they exited the jeep and filed into the woods, ready for action. Stiles was just about to put his phone away and follow the crowd when the device buzzed warmly in his hand.

 **Message sent to: Australia.  
** _4:01PM.  
_ _Sorry about Mr. I-Failed-Art, you okay?  
_ -Stiles.

 **Messaged received:  
** _4:33PM.  
_ _I'm fine now, still loathing Jerkson's existence. Are you worried about me?  
_ -Ava.

 **Message sent to: Australia.  
** _4:34PM.  
_ _Maybe.  
_ _Oh, & I have your name saved as 'Australia.'  
_-Stiles.

 **Messaged received:  
** _4:36PM.  
_ _Guess what name I have you saved as?  
_ -Ava.

Stiles didn't recognize the smile that wriggled across his features, the dimples in his cheeks appearing like an indent as his face showcased the amusement of the moment. He instantly knew the answer to Ava's question. He didn't have to think back to the time they were stuck in the locker room because it was always on his mind. He quickly typed back.

 **Message sent to: Australia.  
** _4:36PM.  
_ _Elvis?  
_ -Stiles.

 **Messaged received:  
** _4:37PM.  
_ _Two points. (:  
_ -Ava.

Stiles' grin broke when a cough sounded from behind him. He practically jumped out of his skin when he was startled, but when he spun around to meet the eyes of the pack leader, his racing heart calmed down. Scott neared Stiles with a knowing smirk and Stiles rolled his eyes, waving him off. When they reached the entrance of Felany, Scott tenderly placed his hand on his best friends' shoulder – a way of asking if Ava was okay. Stiles looked at him and nodded fighting his smile once again. They reached the gang in no time, earning different looks. They looked to Scott for order, who sniffed the air and indicated they should walk north, walking and walking until a quick movement on the left caught Scott's interest, when he turned his head he locked eyes with Theo who smirked devilishly and sprung out of the shadows and zoomed passed the group. The soles of shoes left a mark as they impounded the ground, dead leaves jumping from the dirt with the speed. Somewhere along the line, there was a significant distance between them and the stranger, but thanks to the shortcut Malia took, she jumped out and tackled the suspect. They huddled around the boy, and when he turned over, they moved back, surprised at who they saw.

"Who the hell are you?" Malia snarled, taking a step forward.

The guy who wasn't Theo – but strangely looked like him – observed the people who crowded around him in a circle. He inched up to run away, but Stiles knocked him back down to the ground. The others looked at the human surprised and impressed by his recent actions.

"What? I work out." Stiles stated in simplicity.

Scott grinned and turned to the stranger, wearing his serious alpha face. "Answer the question and no one gets hurt. Who are you and where's Theo?"

The boy snickered lowly. "Don't have a name. Don't know any Theo."

Scott listened to his steady heartbeat, but he still wasn't buying it.

"You're a terrible liar," Lydia credited, eyes narrowed.

"Cute – with a sharp tongue. Banshees are my favorite kinda girls." He winked and made a pass at Lydia, but he just earned himself a kick from Liam and more glares from the circle.

Scott squatted down to the lowest level and nodded to Malia, giving her the green light to use what she loved most – force. "Your knowledge of the supernatural doesn't impress us, and I certainly don't have anywhere to go." Before the hostage could ask what that meant, Malia's foot met with his neck, forcing him back down. "Like I said, I have all day, but she doesn't, so what's your name?"

The guy struggled under Malia's hold, but still didn't give up for the time being. "W-why? What are you going to do?" His voice was hoarse, as his eyes never left Scott. "Kill me?"

"He won't," Malia tightened her grip. "But I will."

He coughed, unable to keep from straying any longer. "Gr..Grant! The name's Grant!"

Mason and Liam happened to ask their next question in unison. "What are you doing here?"

Grant rose, attempting to scare the youngsters, but they barely flinched and held their ground. "You know, you really shouldn't–." He started a coughing fit when he was kicked back down on his back for avoiding the question. "I had to see a task through!" He choked out.

Stiles commanded Grant to specify. He reluctantly, but ultimately explained everything to them while being pinned to the cold and dusty ground.

"You mean–."

"You're in the woods because your sister got cheated on, and you wanted to show the guy a lesson?!" Stiles hollered, interrupting Lydia, dumbfounded at Grant's confession.

"I _just_ said that didn't I?!" Grant was passed peeved.

Features of uncertainty gliding across the faces of the guys and girls. They swapped cautious looks until Scott spoke up. "Where's Theo?"

"I. don't. know. any. Theo!" Grant barked.

Malia reached down and twisted his arm, smiling at his joints that were moments away from breaking.

"What the fuck?!" He screamed. Realizing she wasn't going to ease up, he winced and yanked his arm away, muttering like he was a child. Scott held a hand to his ear, in other words, telling him to speak up. "Ok, fine! Theo was the one I hired!" Grant screamed out when Malia settled her heel on his groin area.

"Not like my hearing isn't working, but let me get this straight, your sister - who I don't know - her boyfriend cheated on her with someone you _don't_ know, and you paid Theo – someone you don't know, to kick the ass of the supposed cheater who you don't even know?!" Grant nodded to Stiles, and he shook his head. "Can someone please kick his lying little doppelganging-looking ass?!"

Scott looked up. "Doppelganging?"

"Yeah," Stiles shifted back and forth on his adrenaline rush and spun a hand. "Don't question it, just go with the flow."

"You're too strong to be human, but not _as_ strong as a supernatural creature. What are you?" Probed an intelligent strawberry-blonde.

"I don't know. You tell me." His demand was acidic.

"You're a Lycan." Mason inferred, turning some heads.

"Was." Grant pulled his throat and spun his head to the side to spit the dirt from his mouth. "I'm a Nacyl now."

"Naka whadda-what?" Stiles rehashed, trying to grasp the concept.

"Nacyl's." Lydia apprised. "If their power is stolen or stripped, they revert to being a human, but still have the super speed and super strength of their previous ability."

"They're human, so they can't shift into a creature of the night anymore," Mason confirmed. "No more glowing eyes either."

"Great! I have no clue what you just said. But a town full of werewolves, murderers and now human Lycans? That means triple the trouble. This town just gets weirder and weirder by the minute." Stiles let out a breath and slapped his thighs out of habit. "Who even stole your powers by the way?"

"Deamhan." Grant answered, gawking up at them with a feral look in his eyes.

The pack prevailed tongue-tied until the coyote hooted. "No idea what you just said, but I'm gonna ask once. Did you poison Greenberg?"

"Greenberg?" The stranger replicated in bafflement. When he saw Malia whip out her claws and moved closer to snatch him up, he began to plead like a lost puppy. "I swear to you! I didn't poison him!"

"Again with the lies," Stiles quipped. "Kick his ass!"

"No," Scott noted, standing up straight. "He isn't lying. Not about that."

"What do we do with him?" Liam asked.

"I vote for tearing his throat out," Malia revealed, transforming her brown eyes to azure blue.

"Let him go. He's of no use." Scott authorized in a serene tonality, never taking his eyes off the unwanted visitor. "Whether his story is true or not, he didn't kill anyone."

Stiles felt defeated. Liam nodded. Kira sighed with relief that no one had to die, and Malia growled wanting to detach his head but kept her cool.

Grant dusted himself off as he rose to his feet. His eyes sparkled with a flare of instability as a crooked, simper cracked like stone upon his facial features. "Next time I see you guys," He threatened, eyes averting to the newest guest that stood behind them. "I bet the circumstances will be very different."

"I wouldn't count on it if I were you." The daunting voice that sent chills down to the very marrow of every spine caused every single person on the landscape to rotate. "Trust me." The newest wolf said, jumping down from a tall deciduous tree, landing on the ground with ease. "They're a pack."

Claws came out, eye colors changed, and defense became first priority except for Stiles, because all he saw was red when he looked at Theo Raeken. Stiles' huff brought the atmosphere to a crashing halt. His pulses began blazing, and his jawbone tightened.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"After all these years Stiles.. you still seem to hate me." His smirk was coy, peril even. "What? No welcome back party?"

Stiles gripped his fists, but Lydia placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping the effect would mollify him. "Looks like the party was just for one," He inclined to the dried blood around the edge of Theo's sweatshirt.

Theo maintained his signature smirk and wagged a finger. "I didn't kill anybody."

Stiles' vent became composed, but the scorn was still prominent. "How do I know you didn't deliberately lead Liam on, knowing he was going to tell Scott, hiring a guy to look like you as we chased him through the woods? Could have been a diversion for you to kill someone as we occupied ourselves with your Lycan looking doppelganger."

Theo clapped with gaiety then sniggered. "Ah Stiles, always the brain. I admire your theories. I'm flattered that you think I'd go out of my way to set this all up to trick you, but I'll tell you what I told Scott my second day back, I'm not here to cause trouble, I'm just here for a pack, that's all."

"What?" Stiles rapidly became filled with cynicism as he looked to Scott.

"He doesn't know..?" Theo began backing up to a degree. "I didn't know you didn't tell him." There was a beat, and neither of the three boys met the other unfathomable gazes. "I'm just...gonna go." He shook his head and turned away, beginning to walk away sluggishly, a beam growing on his face. Whether or not it was Theo's plan to come between the two best friends, it was working.

"You.." Scott pleaded, ignoring the rest of confused stares he received. "You have to understand."

"Understand, huh? Oh, I understand alright. I understand that he got to you. All that talk in the police station about giving the benefit of the doubt – that's because he got to you!" He grumbled in a sour tone. Scott wasn't buying it – he knew just how hurt his best friend was. "I understand that you lied. You _lied_ to me, Scott."

"Stiles..."

"No," Stiles spoke, not masking his real emotions. "I'm done."

The look on his face made Scott gulp, it was a look that Stiles only wore when he was truly angry. Doing everything to assassinate the tears that stung his eyes, Scott tread forward. However, Stiles wasn't having any of it and stepped back like Scott had disease. Before spinning on his heel and walking away, he pulled out a paper from his pocket and tossed it at Scott, bumping his shoulder before storming off the route they came. The sound of Scott's voice calling after him only made him walk faster. It took a lot to make Stiles Stilinski mad, but betrayal by someone he considered a brother hit him where it hurt.


	14. Chapter 14: It's You, Me & The People

When Ava proposed swapping out the 20-year-old TV in the living room for a flat screen, she had hopes of exposing her uncle to the cool hip shows, and less about staying abreast of the local news. However, even before she became alerted of the indestructible smell of caffeine exploding in the kitchen, her attention was snatched by the rigid voice of a newscaster, broadcasting the 'latest breaking news.'

"...still have no leads on the massive underground oil explosion near the district border that occurred three weeks ago. Coming up, the more earnest news of the morning."

"More earnest than an oil spill?" Asked Ava, coming into view.

"Possibly." James sat on the sofa sipping coffee from a to-go mug, chuckling when he looked over at his niece who crumpled her face in doubt. "Mornin' kitten. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded while covering her mouth from a yawn that seemed never to cease. Their morning etiquette talk had lasted a couple of minutes before it disintegrated and Ava went into the kitchen to obtain the rest of coffee swirling in the kettle pot. She sloshed the remainder into her cup and sweetened it with artificial substances, testing it to make sure the strongness was dulled to her liking. She rounded the corner just in time to hear the press release again.

"This is Trisha Murray with the BHC morning news, reporting to you with the latest. Two weeks ago, Raymond Pettigrew, Royale Bank Manager, was found dead in his home. After a thorough investigation, local authorities pronounced the 58-year-old had died of an animal attack."

 _Oh yeah, that was the man who sent her friends into a frenzy every time his name was mooted._

"An animal attack? Seriously?"

"It's not uncommon here." James played with the rising steam that floated over his hands and evaporated into the air. He indulged in another formal sip and shrugged a shoulder. "You'd be surprised what these animals could do."

The girl bit down on her lip and shuddered when she remembered the way both canines lunged at her when she had first met Deputy Parrish _and_ when she first visited Deaton at the clinic.

"But now, officials have an even bigger case on their hands. The body of Mr. Pettigrew has been declared _missing_. There hasn't been confirmation of foul play with the hospital employees, but police are currently searching for suspects. They are asking anyone to come forward if they have any information at all."

"Who would steal a mutated body?"

The man glanced up. "I repeat. You'd be surprised."

The blonde watched on as the lady proceeded to justify what was happening and how the authorities were dealing with the situation.

At the buzz of an incoming text message, Ava didn't realize she giggled out loud. Her fingers stroked the virtual keypad, as she didn't bother to fight the grin that danced on the corner of her lips.

"Who's that?"

"Huh?" She exited the screen and put the phone back in her pocket. She didn't know why or how to describe it, but she almost felt urged to hide the fact that she had spent the night texting Stiles right up until now. It should have been no big deal. It was just Stiles after all. "Oh, um. Just a friend."

"A friend?" The dramatic clearing of his throat was enough to make Ava suspicious of his opinion.

"What?" Her arms traversed as she wondered what suddenly had him all smiles. When something clicked, she mixed her gasp with a laugh, figuring out what he was thinking. Ava propelled the plush pillow and lightly hit him on the head. He dived away, turning his head to wink back at her. He rested his arm on the brown bolster and let the environment dumb down.

"And now, we take to the streets, live, to find out what the citizens have to say about the increase of animal attacks." The reporter swished her mic to a resident who stood nearby, prepared to discover his thoughts.

"It's alarming. I don't know why or what's happening, but I just hope it gets all sorted out soon." Patron one claimed. "My family and I just moved here for a fresh start in this nice little mellow town. But uh, I'm gonna remain optimistic that it gets fixed soon. So our kids would be able to play and not feel scared."

Ava nodded – now that was one handsome optimistic man if she did say so herself. Murray went around to a few more natives making Ava sigh at how depressing the news made her feel. She went to the kitchen and seized her premade lunch. When she returned, she paid little surveillance to the television and more to her cellular device, taking a seat atop the arm of the three seater sofa.

"And what about you? What do you think is going on?" The news anchor inquired.

"It. is. no. animal." A low, whispery voice went. "They are here." Ava instantly tensed up at the accent. The tone pushed an oncoming headache onto her that was avoidable. She felt tired. Faint. All her senses screamed fear. "They are watching these things, your every move." Ava immediately regretted the minute she looked at the TV.

It was the library woman.

The one with the distorted eye color.

The woman who grabbed her and told her that she was going to _die_ according to some _prophecy_.

Ava's eyes widened. She felt her breath sizzle in her chest. She gripped the sofa arm, barely saving herself from crashing onto the marble tiles of their living room floor. Her brain went dead, numb – as if it couldn't quite compute. Her knees shook, her body felt flushed with heat, and the light...the light from the kitchen's chandelier – shun too bright even though it was 10 feet away. The girl in distress let out a gasping sob.

James was on his feet as soon as he heard the empty cup in Ava's hand hit the floor. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She looked at him to the TV, ten times, in the span of five seconds. Unable to progress or even breathe properly, she communicated by solely shaking her head.

They turned to look at the ghostly woman, who stared intensely at the camera – advancing like she was about to pull a Samara and pop out of the screen like _The Ring_. "They are evil beings and they..will..kill.. _you_."

Ava held her breath, feeling like the woman was psychically invading her space like she was speaking directly to her. It was a long minute before the cameraman coughed in uneasiness when the woman's eyes shifted up to him in a very scary stance.

"O..kay." Murray stared at the patron like she was eccentric and made a sign to the cinematographer to take the camera off of her. "Uh, thanks for that..unsightly input. We'll be right back after these messages."

The picture on the screen faded black before a sports commercial came on.

"Here." James held the fallen cup up to Ava. She blinked a couple of times, not in registry of what was going on. Though when her queasiness quelled, she made her way to the kitchen, rinsed out the cup and reentered the living room to face the TV that was – thankfully – switched off.

"You sure you're alright?" The dark haired man ventured to hold her gaze but gained little conquest. "You can stay home if you don't feel too well."

Ava's trance mode was restored, but she did her best to stave it off. "No..I'm fine."

James glanced at Ava a few moments longer before nodding his head. "Come on, I'll drop you to school. I've got an important meeting with someone I can't miss."

Ava sought to keep a smile, but it didn't last too long when she turned back to face the darkness of the TV for a quick second. Her eyes involuntarily closed before she moved her feet. The reminiscence of the washroom, the words and the psychical exchange between her and that woman – the pop-up book from hell – became too much to bare. Everything came back like a hurricane, and it left a bad, disastrous feeling in her stomach. Ava couldn't tell if she was reading into things or overreacting, but the morning was off to an atrocious start.

 **[...]**

"I won't repeat this, so eyes and ears on me!"

All the seniors in the gymnasium looked up to the loud, monotoned school secretary – Marsha, who spoke while standing high on a silver ladder.

"You have duties. You'll be unsupervised most of the time so listen up. Hang what you can. Don't fraternize with anyone of the opposite sex. Supplies are located in the East wing stock room. And I'll leave one student in charge with the key. You have an hour, don't break anything or you'll get detention, good luck." Marsha climbed down to the ground, and it took her screaming "get a move on" for bodies to fly to their assigned tasks. Marsha removed the storage key from around her neck and maneuvered her way through the crowd; she placed her hand on someone's shoulder and put the key in their hand, walking away with a wink.

"Why am I not surprised?" Ava said, laying eyes on Theo who revolved at the sudden sound of her voice.

The two were amongst the seniors who were hauled out of class to help decorate the gym for the upcoming JG9. The event was a talent show for grade nine participants to showcase their talents of dancing, singing, acting, acrobatics and more. It was a fun convention the school held just to make the juniors feel more at welcomed and at home.

"She _likes_ you, you know."

Theo looked down at himself and wore a smirk. "What's not to like?"

Ava snorted, grabbing a box full of ornaments. "Can we say ego trip?"

"Ego Express." He jested somewhat boastfully.

They both laughed and begun engrossing in a friendly discussion as they hung props around the room for a while. Theo had just finished hanging his last decor when he tossed her the keys and said goodbye with an overly flirty wink. Though, a tap on the shoulder sent her into overdrive when she rotated to face her one and only – Biology partner.

"Don't plow me over; I'm far too pretty to die young." Lydia joked, trying to soothe the traction. Ava nodded, not knowing what to say. She slowly grabbed a box of colorful ribbons and began pinning them on the large show curtain. It had been almost two days since they've even looked at each other, and Ava would have been lying if she said it wasn't hard not speaking to her.

Was she still mad? _Yes_. Was she as mad as the same day she found out? _No._

If asked – Ava wanted to be the one to tell people about the fire – not Lydia, not some stranger in the hall, and certainly not Jackson, but her. There might have been a basis why Lydia had spoken about the fire to someone else, and it seemed like that reason was about to be made known to her. But overall, Ava just wanted a simple apology, so they could put their feud behind them and continue like the friends she knew they were.

"Look." Lydia exhaled, walking behind her. "I know I promised not to tell anyone but-. I just..I caved due to Sidney being a pain in the ass. She asked why I was ditching her to hang out with you and when I told her to drop it, she started asking questions about who you were. I told her out of annoyance to shut her up, not to disrespect you or in any way spill your secret." Quietness transpired before resumption. "I know it doesn't excuse what I did, but I obviously didn't know Jackson was eavesdropping and willing to blab it to the whole school. But even if he wasn't, I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry, okay?" Lydia examined Ava staple the last string before pursing her lips.

This made Lydia frown before speaking in a very quiet voice that both of them didn't know she had.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Ava. Please, say something."

Both girls grilled each other dead in the eye, not moving a single body part for what felt like hours, though the maximum reality was 15 seconds. Despite nothing being said, Ava's activity of walking away made Lydia panic and she pulled her back by the arm.

Fortunately, her frantic panic swam far from shore when she saw her friend's face. "Gosh, don't do that!" She shook her head at Ava who was toothily grinning. Lydia's hand grazed over her chest in relief, holding out the same hand when the beating of her heart ultimately chilled out. "Friends?"

"...Is a TV show that aired from 1994 - 2004." Ava happily announced. Lydia smirked but rolled her eyes. The taller chick smiled and gently squeezed the hand that was extended to her. "Friends." She confirmed, pulling Lydia into a hug.

With all that was well and swell, the girls began to function like the multitaskers they were. They worked fast with their hands and played catch up with their mouths. Hung decorations around and made jokes throughout. A lot was missed during the time they didn't speak, and although it was short, it felt like a week.

Their conversation was ongoing, hardly pausing until lunchtime was due. The reuniters settled for food that was not so foreign to their bodies – junk from the vending machine. They said goodbye and booked it to their afternoon classes that were ready to commence. Lit and Arithmetics were tedious sessions, and Ava could only hope Chem was more tolerable. Though she had a feeling her hope would be crushed, upon strolling into the room and undergoing an abrupt iciness that traveled down her spine.

Could it have been the breeze from the open glass window in the classroom? _Sure._

Or could it have been from the woman at Harris' desk who stared her down since she stepped foot through the door? _Precisely._

The lady, who assumedly was the substitute teacher for God knows how long, averted her pupils to the ones Ava owned. It seemed having a stare off with a figure of authority was frowned upon, but Ava didn't give two shits.

If she was about to be sent to detention, for not shying away, then so be it.

Students piled into the classroom and naturally, the tension between her and the elder woman faded. Ava transferred her energy into watching the door, mainly waiting for Stiles to come sauntering in. She wanted to speak to him, to thank him for cheering her up through text. However, her appreciation might have been bumped to the backburner when she spotted her peer looking lifeless, a grim profile on his face. Stiles occupied the seat next to her and gave the smallest of smiles without a word. Ava stared on in bewilderment. She didn't have the benefit of knowing Stiles as long as Scott, Lydia or even Malia, but this wasn't the Stiles she knew – or should she say – was used to. Before she could speak, the instructor stood up and introduced herself as Ms. H jumping into the dialogue about the subject for the day. When they were spared from her talking, there were only two sounds that filled the room, the ticking clock on the wall and the scribbles on paper from pens and pencils.

Ava was far too stupefied to concentrate on her work. Her dilated orbs kept wandering to Stiles who still didn't say a word or even gaze her way for the past 45 minutes.

She couldn't take it anymore, she had to ask what was wrong. _It was now or never._

"Stiles?" He glimpsed up from writing, the grim physiognomy never transfiguring as he waited for her to ask her question. The more Ava gawked at him, the more she realized something she should have distinguished before – whatever bothered Stiles, didn't just happen. He looked like he lost days of sleep over whatever it was.

The boy pursued his stoicism and tapped his pencil on the desk. Originating with the next string of words didn't happen when Ms. H appointed Ava a harsh scowl and told her to be quiet. Stiles lowered his head leaving to Ava sigh with worry, before conjuring a quick plan. Several moments, five texts and multiple glares from Ms. H later, Ava received the green light that her scheme was in motion. She packed up her things and waited. _Operation-cheer-Stiles-up-101 was now in gear._

"Boys and girls." The woman grasped everybody's regard with a clap of her hands. "I want you to work on the Chemistry reading now, but before I forget," She licked her thumb and hoisted up a paper from the crisp pile on the desk. "Parent-teacher meetings are on October 16th. Please take this home, have your parents sign it and bring it back tomorrow."

Stiles aimed to get up, but Ava pulled him back down and shook her head. He was confused, but she held up a finger and motioned for him to wait. A student then knocked on the door and step foot into the boundary of the room, jawing mutely with teacher H. She appeared indecisive as she eyed the students, but walked out of the class with the boy anyway. Ava jumped off the stool and scurried around the desk.

"Quick, grab your things." She said to Stiles who furrowed his brows at her like she was insane. "Come on, slow poke! She's not going to be gone forever."

The temporize on his visage prompted Ava to grab hold of his hand and give him the boost he needed. He crammed his things into his backpack, keeping up with Ava who stuffed two PT papers in her bag for them. With wondrous thoughts, Stiles skipped down the steps behind her. They vanished around a corner, behind the boiler room, and bolted out a set of unused double doors. Upon jumping over the fence to get away from the school grounds, Ava ran. Perplexed at the sudden change of pace, Stiles began running too. After squashing leaves, climbing mini hills, hopping over rocks and dodging slimy tree sap that didn't smell like daisies, Stiles stopped at an entry that led to a clearing. As if knowing what he was going to ask, Ava nodded when he looked in her direction.

One slow step led to two.

Three.

Five.

Ten.

Until he came into a tremendous clearing just on the brink of a cliff.

Right there, in the middle of the town, they stood on a lonesome edge that overlooked the downtown area of Beacon Hills. Stiles dropped his bag on the ground and inhaled a good and long whiff of nature's air, that made him feel like he found a place of relaxation, thousands of feet in the air. There, he felt as though he was above everyone and nothing – no pain, sorrow, or problems could touch him for the time being. He was happy to observe numerous people below himself, like looking at little ants through a microscope. The sunshine hit the town's skyline with glee before shining over them like a warm and snuggly blanket – and it felt good.

Extremely good.

The boy approached the girl in stealth mode and took a seat next to her on the edge of the arch, leaving a small amount of space between them. Their feet precariously dangled from the cliff, and like the love-dove couple, they weren't, they watched the sun begin to set in ideal silence that lasted hours.

"You brought me here to talk didn't you?" Stiles never took his eyes off of what God called the sunset.

The sun, a fiery jagged orb, looked like it was gradually receding into the waters below. The sky consisted of an assortment of shades, a blend of cherry red, orange, and daisy yellow. How beautiful the sunset was.

Ava suspended her speech before answering. "Whenever you're ready." She lulled and licked her lips. "I was so wrapped up in my own problems I didn't realize you needed someone to talk to." She softly said.

"Do you fear change?" Stiles finally asked after a long leap of quietness.

"I do."

"I think things are changing." Ava stayed silent but made sure he knew he had her full attention. He was starting to open up, she didn't want to do or say anything that would send him back in a spiral. "I've seen things. Irrational things. I've seen more. More accidents, arrests, and witnessed more bad things than people our age shouldn't have." He stared off into the distance as if the encounters were vivid and right in front of him. "But I never dealt with the supposed trauma alone. I always had a shoulder to lean on. Scott's shoulder." At this point, Ava couldn't listen only with her ears, she had to use her eyes. "I went in solo – just like I did before every other day at the age of 6 – and one day came out of the sandbox with Scott McCall. God, it was one of the greatest days of my life. So great, that the memory is still fresh in my head. Scott and I, we've dealt with so much, you know? The messy divorce of his parents, losing my mother, graduating from middle school, starting high school? I can't look at him any less than a brother." He was hunched in a position where he brought his knees up to his chin and hugged around his knees with both his arms. "But something happened." Stiles stopped short, forgetting he couldn't mention anything about the supernatural, moreover his current problem – Theo. So, he warily continued to explain about his junior year and up, expurgating the parts that needed to be censored. When the topic of Pettigrew came up, he didn't name-drop but mentioned that _someone_ was attempting to come between him and Scott, that he thought this _someone_ played a part in Pettigrew's death.

"So, you think..this mutual acquaintance/threat – between you and Scott – killed Pettigrew?" This interpreted so much more to Ava than Stiles knew. "And this _someone_ – do you think he took Pettigrew's body?" She knew he was informed of the news she saw earlier in the morning.

"I was told never to point fingers without proof but..yeah." He ran a hand through his soft locks and groaned. "I know this kinda sounds stupid, but I'm just mad. You know? I'm mad that Scott didn't just take this person's side, but he blew off our tradition." While Stiles didn't exactly go into what kind of tradition he and Scott had, he revealed it was something they did once a year and how important it was to him. "I'm sorry for my spur of the moment venting. I just had to get that off my chest."

"Don't apologize for the way you feel." She confessed. "I can't pretend to know or judge your relationship with Scott. But what you've said, what you've been through, it's a lot. And the bond you guys have seems real strong, so I don't think Scott would just throw that all away, but.." She took an appropriate pause. "I think...he's trusting. People who are trusting, generally strive to see the good in others and that makes it easy to leave their trust in the wrong hands." Somewhere in between their chat, Ava had resulted to laying on her back. It provided that comfortable therapy feeling. "I think you should talk with Scott, hear him out, cause there has to be some reasonable explanation for his actions. But I do advise you – don't wait too long. Cause while a break from friends could be beneficial – too long of a break could make things worse."

"Really? Cause I was hoping to make him sweat it out. A week, two, maybe a month." He smirked.

"And have the epic best friend story of Stilinski and McCall come to an end?" Ava heaved a hand to her forehead dramatically. "Well, I'd be damned!"

A grin fell upon Stiles right before he joined Ava in lying flat on his back. After a while of staring at the turtle moving clouds, he gazed at the girl who he couldn't help but click with and simply...stared at her.

"I would rather you tell me I had boogers in my nose, instead of you looking at me like that." Ava teased. Her smile was as innocent as they came.

Stiles went into deep thought when he watched her break into a smile. He didn't know what it was because – he has seen her smile plenty of times before – but this smile was a smile that did something to his insides and apparently his memory because he couldn't remember a damn thing he wanted to say. He knew he should have remained quiet, but he couldn't stop the all-too-serious bombshell that dropped from his mouth. "I'd have wiped it for you with my bare hands."

Even though Ava heard the seriousness in his voice, she gulped nervously and decided to amp up the atmosphere with a corny joke. But when she turned to look at him, she found out just how intensely she was being stared at. Her heart beated the same speed like a rocket. She couldn't find words to say. She felt like she was reliving the first day of school when she crashed into him, then happened to get lost in his warm honey filled eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat then.

And it skipped a beat now.

Like nature in its natural pull, Stiles had moved closer to Ava over the time. Their hands nearly touched - like first-time virgins. Their knees grazed in passion, and their eyes stirred in sync – like waltzing a centuries-old dance. _It was peachy to say the least._

Only God knew the following actions if they weren't interrupted by the unexpected ringing of Stiles' cellphone.

When their emphasis met again, Ava rolled away from him, brushing her pants as she stood.

"I think it's time you know the second reason I brought you here.." The teen wasted no time in flowing back down the arch. A busy-body Stiles tailing behind as he left the clearing and trekked back into the forest. He spotted a round wooden target standing on two wooden peg legs. He halted as his ivory face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Is that–? No. No way!" Stiles ran to the drawn line on the ground and acquired an ax situated in the dirt. He rolled his shoulders and tossed it with all his might. "Holy smokes! How'd you even get these things?"

"It belongs to one of our neighbors. He's friends with my uncle and said we can use it anytime. He's a lumberjack." Ava stood in position and released her ax. She didn't hit bullseye but was very close.

A permanent glee rectified within Stiles as he geared up for his turn. Before throwing the ax, he stepped back and glanced at his blonde friend. "Thank you for making today what it was. I'm forever grateful."

"You're welcome." Ava looked down to her feet and kicked the leaves. "But don't be grateful just yet." She moved and took the ax from his hand. "Cause you won't like it when I beat you."

"Pft! Yeah, ok. Like that's going to happen." Stiles grabbed the ax and threw it with one hand, hitting his first bullseye. He shot his hands in the air and danced like he won a million dollars. Ava laughed and stuck her tongue out at him.

As they released built up tension and anger by partaking in ax throwing, a conversation about life amongst other things came all too easy. They didn't care they had missed calls or that it was already 6:45 in the evening. They weren't in a rush to go anywhere.

Because time definitely stood still when they accompanied each other.


	15. Chapter 15: You've Got Me In Chains

**A|N: Hellooo, earthy Earthlings.**

 **[1] Thank you so much for the follows | favorites | & comments, whether it be new or old.  
** **[2] In honor of reaching 100 reviews, I'll be posting two chapters! Later today or tomorrow.  
** **[3] CHANGE ALERT: Jackson is no longer a wolf. I rather he be human. Doesn't change the fact he's been through/aware of the supernatural.  
** **[4] Reader of the week: TVDKITSUNE15.**

* * *

Theo ambled in a state of hypnosis.

One minute he was sailing to the cafeteria for grub and the next, he was looking, searching – for the location that had spellbinding music.

He was familiar with the sound cause he's heard the piano a thousand times before. But the melody – the tune, it was...different. It wasn't a wannabe rock song turned into a softer hum, or a pop song gone wrong. It was a classic with its own twist. It was powerful. Haunting. Mystical.

Lost in his thoughts as he walked, Theo swerved through a crowd of sleepwalkers, feet draggers, and a bunch of niners who sauntered with swagger. It was a miracle he was able to somewhat reach his destination without colliding into people or doors. The last turn he took singled him out from the horde. A hallway in the North wing that was deserted by every student and teacher in the institution. They were convinced it was cursed by incomprehensible things.

How paradoxical for heavenly resonating music to brim a room that was rumored to be filled with entities. _Demons. Evil spirits. Wolves._

Mrs. Janesh's music room. That's where the harmony came from.

His natural instinct to decamp like he was about to catch prey kicked in, and like a warm summers night - the wolf tiptoed silently. He stopped right before the entrance, worried that one wrong step would waver every last note. So, he stilled and let the miraculous sound absorb his interest, his mind piecing together all the visualizations of the audio.

He pushed opened the door and peeped in, relieved that there was only a distant creak of the hinges.

Although the music never came to a stop, Theo did, surprised to be acquainted with the individual who sat at the grand Yamaha piano. The machine that operated like a sophisticated black beast, was sent to life by the girl's slender fingers. Keys of ivory white and smaller keys of ebony black enhanced the remarkable object. He could have listened to this – whatever it was called – over and over again, but he blew his chance when he startled the pianist.

"Oh–, Theo?"

Silence.

"I didn't think anyone came here at lunch." Ava hypothesized. She sharply turned and lowered the lid of the piano. "But you're here."

"Don't go." His feet inclined when he registered she was about to leave. His exert to match her inspection flunked. She was laser focused – too focused on something he couldn't determine. Normally, Theo was able to read people, but when he was bitten and given 24/7 wolf benefits, his ability amplified and reading people became as easy as reading a picture book. But Ava was divergent, something about her stood out. She was unique and therefore, wasn't easily readable. "That song – it's an original piece isn't it?"

"Yeah." Ava turned her captivation to the musical instrument again. "Something like that."

"Play something for me," Theo ordered. The girl squinted, as if remembering something, and vividly shook her head. He toddled over and took a seat next to her on the dark tiled bench. "Please?" He tried again.

It took a while for Ava to warm up to the idea, but when she did, she _really_ played. The energy that flowed within her urged her to tap the keys with vigor. The song she played came from her mind but flew out of her soul. She cherished every minute of it and so did Theo. He listened with his eyes, but somewhere along the line, he ended up staring at her. He watched her touch the piano like it was her friend, watched her move her head back and forth like she was blessed with rhythm, watched her closed her eyes like he wasn't even there.

After Ava had finished, a twinge of embarrassment dyed her cheeks red.

"I enjoyed it." For a short time in a long time, the power-hungry boy was honest. Music really wasn't his thing. There were a few rock songs here and there he liked, but that was about it. He smirked and called her by the nickname that made her cringe. "I really did, Mary."

Ava kept her own smirk to a minimum until the dark haired throb beside her came up with a suggestion.

"Teach me something." He relaxingly commanded. "But not chopsticks–," His face was dismissive. "Or that _ballerina_ song everyone knows."

"That ballerina song is called Fur Elise."

"Yeah – right. That."

The blonde jumped into a transient lesson, teaching him body posture, proper finger structure, counts, and timing. Factors that taught him how to play the first 15 seconds of _My Immortal_ , by Evanescence.

"Play it back for me." She moved her hands away from the grand scale and looked at the sheet music. "And don't forget to count."

Theo cleared his throat and nodded. He pressed the keys and counted the beat in his head. He played until he ended with an incorrect note then leisurely let his hands fall by his side, awaiting her approval.

"Not bad." She employed the valid key. "But you're supposed to end with D."

Theo cluelessly looked down and fondled the E tile. "Like this?"

"No." Ava leaned forward and tenderly cupped his left hand, using his index. "Like that." With her hand still hovering his, he pressed the key. Ava bobbed with a smile. Too bad she didn't know he had intermediate knowledge of how to play the piano. And his: _teach-me-I'm-vunerable_ was all just a ploy.

 _Trickster._

When Ava recognized her hand was still planted over his, she withdrew it, but upon further action, her hand brushed across his arm. Like most ordinary people, she should have backed away and apologized for the accidental touch, but she didn't. Instead, her hand sluggishly made its way up his arm feeling for what she _thought_ she discovered.

"You're...healing." Her head tilted to the right as she claimed in a very trance-like tone.

"What the hell did you just say?" Theo chided in defense, suspicion, and lethalness all in one shot. He glanced down to his arm then back up to her.

"Sorry, I thought.." She repealed her hand and mirrored his gaze, noting how his eyes fueled with curiosity at what she was going to say next. "It just feels like you got hurt." She shook her head. "–Or it may just be my unhinged intuition." She didn't know how or why she said what she said. It's not like she was able to see his bare skin. He had on a blue hoodie the entire time.

 _Doesn't matter, he probably thinks you have an eccentric imagination anyway._

The awkwardness that reared its ugly head forced Theo to fake a repentant smile. Ava unvisibly bit down on her tongue and inwardly sighed, feeling like she overstepped her boundaries. She didn't really know much about her English Lit classmate, but it was evident he kept most parts of him concealed and locked away in what she presumed to be a bad-boy-front. The girl in wonder wouldn't have said anything if she knew a certain werecoyote had stood outside the door, casually eavesdropping on their conversation.

 **...**

"How's the eye? Still bruised?"

"Yeah, but the pain's numbin' out too."

"You think you can play?"

Before an answer was retorted, Finstock surfaced to the sight and slapped his hand down on Matt's shoulder, grabbing both his and Jackson's attention.

"Could he play?" The coach mimicked the question – _how ridiculous_. "Of course he could play!" He pulled Matt closer and ruffled his hair, sharing one of his famous kooky smiles.

"But Coach.." Matt tried to pull away.

All he wanted to do was go home and put some ice on his eye. The thought of a flying ball hitting him in the face didn't sit too well.

"But? Did I just hear a _but_ from you, Warden?!" Coach screamed. He laid a heavy hand on Matt's back and constricted him without mercy. "Listen, there are no buts in Lacrosse." He sighed and pinched his nose bridge. Something he always did when he tried not to break down and curse at the horny underaged students he called his Lacrosse team. "God created Lacrosse for a reason. He also created me, Jackson, and you." His wild eyes flashed back and forth between the seniors. "And he created Greenberg, though I'm not sure why.." Bobby ogled off into wonder. "He created you guys with skill and talents, features that no other teenage males have. And those my friends – are the principal opponents to winning the game. You know why?" The boys stayed tight-lipped and leaned in cautiously as Bobby gestured for them to do so. "Because I refuse to LOSE to those whiny bunch of pansies called Devenford Prep! You hear me?!" He outbursted inquisitively. "So let's get out there and kick some damn ass!" He bellowed, not sparing the grimacing players another word.

Jackson watched on in minimal terror as his coach muttered to himself and tramped down the hall, vanishing with Matt through the gymnasium doors. A small splurge of cackling made Jackson rotate in vexation, his jaw dense when he slammed his locker shut and began to stomp over to his target. Ava had been standing at her locker, listening to him and Matt, then them and Finstock. She was laughing at the way Finstock hauled Matt's ass away, but her laughter ceased when it caught the unwanted attention of the jock.

"What the hell is your problem?" Jackson growled in accusation.

"My problem?" Being on school grounds was the only thing holding her back from being a ratchet psychopath. He wasn't worth getting suspended for. "I don't have a problem!" She shut her locker. "What the hell is _your_ problem?"

"You are!" His voice was void of everything excluding anger. "Ever since you've got here you've made my life a living hell."

"That's bull, and you know it."

The foes had developed a new all time low as they stood in the middle of the hall, shouting. Beholden, most teachers, had left the building, so detention or suspension was automatically evaded. Their stacks of screams finally twisted into grunts and meaningless glares.

Jackson was the match. And Ava was the firecracker.

She wanted him on another planet, and he wanted her erased from the earth.

Their dislike and loathing of each other were toxic – and there was just no winning or getting through to the both of them. The buzzing phone in Jackson's pocket killed the tension. He stepped away but still wore his trademark scowl. As he walked past her in an angry huff, Ava shrieked and fought internally not to throw something at him. It was devasting she couldn't wave a wand and zap him away. Being a part of Hogwarts just wasn't in the cards for her.

 **...**

"It's over. My life is _officially_ over." Stiles grumbled in exasperation.

"I wouldn't say officially. You still might be able to make it home before it _officially_ breaks down for good."

"No no no no no! Shut up, dude!" Stiles moaned in skepticism.

"It's the truth."

"Shut up!" Stiles covered his ears, hoping he would be spared the horror of truthful words.

"Just hear me out."

"Lalalalalalala!" He sung.

"But Sti–."

"I can't hear you! La! La! La! La! La!" He yelled. He looked over to the boy whose lips weren't moving and slowly uncovered his ears, flinching when he heard a chuckle. "Scott, seriously. Will you shut up? My baby. She..she's dying! And you're making a joke out of this." Stiles communicated without a breath like he usually did when he was nervous or distressed. "I utterly despise your morbid sense of humor. Actually, I liked it better when you had no humor. You know, when you were a nobody and brought me down into the nerd depths of society with you by association. Remember that?"

The memories of junior year paddled back like a canoe for the briefest of seconds. A hint of despair hit Scott when his mind slung to Allison. Stiles sighed, knowing he was to blame for that sad, doe-eyed look.

"I didn't mean it like that." He closed the hood of his jeep and jumped on the top, balancing the wrench on his knuckles. "Just meant, it's hard dealing with the fact my baby isn't eternal and can't just roar back to life like you and all your other werewolf friends do – when beaten or on the brink of death, of course."

Scott deadpanned to cover up his wince. "Liam's my only werewolf friend."

"That's not true! There's uh.." Stiles shot his eyes side to side, trying to recall a name. "Oh, and um.." He still didn't get anywhere. The next name was one Scott didn't anticipate. "There's Theo. I bet he's still _itching_ to be your new best friend." His sum up was sarcastic.

A tiny frown worked itself across Scott's face, and Stiles suddenly felt like a jerk when he saw it. "Forget I said that."

Scott leaned back on the jeep and looked far off into the distance. "I know you told me you didn't care to speak about it again, but.." When he paused, Stiles knew his friend was about to go into a full remorseful and meaningful tirade. For how long it would go on? He couldn't estimate. "I desperately wanted to believe everything was gonna be better. After battling Tracy in the summer, losing track of a disappearing Donovan, and watching a bunch of people die, a bunch of innocent people who I – I couldn't save. I hit a low, Stiles. I was tired of seeing people die, all I wanted was peace." The alpha's hands began to shake. He swiftly tried to get back a grip on his emotions. "Theo reached out to me when he came back to town, and I, I foolishly agreed–."

"Scott, stop." Stiles interposed. He couldn't sit there and listen to his best friend, his brother, succumb to the guilt that seemed to be eating him alive like a dinner buffet.

"He said," He ignored Stiles and kept going. "He came back for his family, for a pack, just to live a normal life. I believed him because his heart beat was...steady. But I traded our bond for false hope. I chose to believe in a fantasy instead of reality, and worst of all, I abandoned you." He stalled. "I – I'm sorry, Stiles. For everything."

Scott's voice broke at his last words. Stiles slid off his jeep to try and comfort him, but he just turned away again, not wanting Stiles to see him the way he was – to see him as a failure.

September 2011 was the first time Stiles got behind a wheel to take his driver's ed. Upon successfully passing – the Beacon boys opted to celebrate in a way like never before. It's how their own back-to-school tradition-celebration came about. The first week of every September was known as _their_ week. They'd pick a random town on the map that was hours away, get in the car and just drive. It was them, their camping gear, loads of junk food, beers, and washroom necessities, roughing it in the wild. No one knew about the location except and respectively – the Sheriff and Melissa. They did this for three years, and this year was supposed to be their 4th. On the day of, an hour before go-time, Stiles received a text from Scott saying something came up and he couldn't make it, that he was sorry for pulling out last minute. Stiles went numb as he stared at the text. When he finally did come up with a reply – Scott didn't even respond. He told himself over and over that Scott must have had a good reason to suddenly bail on him, that not getting an explanation for the sudden cancellation must have been he was in a life or death complication. However, sweeping the situation under the rug didn't work and the nagging thoughts in the pit of his stomach grew, and since then, a pang of anger latched onto Stiles' beating heart. Bit by bit, the damaging emotion began to gradually lessen but, came back and tripled when Theo showed up at Felany Avenue, sputtering the harsh occurrences of his meeting with Scott. It's why he tossed their 4-year-old tradition paper at Scott that day.

"Scott..." Stiles was done listening to him suffer. 24 texts, 33 calls, 8 voicemails in a span of two days and a face to face conversation was enough. He already got the apology he deserved, so he couldn't let his homie bow down to misery nor torment any longer. "I believed you when you first apologized. I still believe you."

At those words, Scott finally turned around and used his eyes to verbalize the unspoken words his heart wanted to. He endured content when he welcomed the sentimental weight of their brotherly hug. Soon after, they separated and restarted affixing the automobile, plummeting into chatter like they didn't just have a heart to heart. They spoke about everything and nothing. From school – to the no-suspects on Pettigrew's missing body.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Wrench me." Scott stuck his hand out and caught the tool that was chucked to his hand. He began to unscrew one of the many complexing looking bolts in the jeep. "Going on a date with Kira. Why? What's up?"

"I got the new Resident Evil video game," Stiles said like it was no big deal.

"What?!" Scott jerked his head up. "I thought those weren't out in stores until November?"

"Eh." Stiles turned his lips upwards and bragged. "I know a few people."

Scott pointed for Stiles to get in the car. When he was in, he told him to manipulate the ignition, but nothing happened. "I'm free Wednesday." He postulated, rearranging a few more wires. "Hopefully, I don't turn." He drew a breath and signaled for Stiles to turn the key a second time.

"Yes!" The boy loudly rejoiced. He was happy his buddy was available but happier that his one and only returned from the dead. He pounded the wheel out of excitement and briskly leaped out of the taped up monster he depended on for transportation. "Since when? Derek taught you most of what you know."

"I know, and I don't know why, but it's been getting a lot tougher to resist the glamor to turn."

"Don't worry too much about it, Scotty." He patted him on the back. "Cons of being a leader. Just think of it this way – you've got so much alpha strength just waiting to combust – explode – like how you probably _explode_ on Kira. You just need a little boost, that's all. Think of viagra as your boost." Stiles peered down at his blue baby and didn't observe the way Scott scrutinized him like he was a canon with no filter. "Are you gonna need chains? I can bring 'em over."

"Chains?" A compassionate voice cut into the conversation. "Will there be strawberries, whipped cream, and whips too?" Scott and Stiles closed the hood of the jeep and spun around to see Ava striding towards the lot. "I'm sure Kira would be happy." She giggled when she detected their faces were deformed with revelation and mystification. "So, are you going to take pictures or videotape?" She turned to Stiles but failed to appear stony-faced.

He whipped his head and stumbled over his words. "No. No! That would be a _devilishly-awful_ thing to witness. I'd need holy water for my eyes." He elbowed the guy next to him in the stomach. "No offense, bro."

"Dude." Scott lacked words.

" _Dude,_ " Stiles repeated.

"Boys are weird." Ava chuckled and started walking backward, eyes still lingering on both of her friends. "Hey, Scott. I know what your theme song of that evening is gonna be." She smirked as he narrowed his dark orbs. "You've got me in chains." Stiles grinned when Scott gaped. "You've got me in chains for your loveee!"

"Aw, no. Not that song." He whined and slumped his shoulders.

"But, I wouldn't change!" She sang louder, loving how he squirmed. Call it payback for that time he teased her with the milkshake song.

"C'mon, don't!" His delirium behavior was equivalent to being locked in a horror house.

"No, I wouldn't change this love!" She ended, before laughing and waving goodbye.

The males watched their compeer get in her jeep and drive away in a jiffy. After a non-literal millennial, they whirled to face each other, donning the same mindset.

"Why didn't you stop me from rambling on about chains and alpha powers when you heard her coming?"

Scott uplifted the black strip of hair above his eye socket. "I didn't hear her. I guess... I guess I wasn't paying attention."

"Hm."

The two mates sported impassive visages that deficiently cloaked their confusion. A slip of the tongue could have ushered their secrets into the wrong hands – so they both, unknowingly, made a vow to be more meticulous.


	16. Chapter 16: Victims Of A Down

**A|N: Agh, there's been an insane power outage here, and my internet has been screwed up. Please forgive the late chapter. Merry Christmas to you all if you celebrate it.**

 **Reader of the week: Guest** – Britt. You've been an OG since my first & deleted version of this story. Thank you, so very much.

* * *

The week voyaged by without complications. Wake up. School. Eat. Jet to the vet and go home became an everyday regimen. Not that Ava objected – she loved things the way they were.

She had just exited the library after her spare and headed down the hall. She wanted to savor some alone time in the music room – a place of avoidance after Monday's debacle with Theo.

Ava cessitated at a bathroom to wash her hands. She penetrated into the vacant room and plopped down in front of the piano after a quick stretch. She chomped on her lunch in between plays then transitioned to the clarinet – a woodwind device she subjugated at the age of 6. She conquered the flute – an implement taught by her grandmother and last but not least was the violin, a blissful black Brobdingnagian she fell head over, not heels, sneakers for.

The foreign sound of the octaves vibrated through the walls. It's what caught Stiles' attention when he trotted out of the Media room with a stack of newspapers that were to be delivered to the office. He stared down the hall and discoursed with himself. Without another thought, he sprawled down the path. The closer he got to the door, the more he felt like he entered an eldritch scene in a paranormal film. One of those flicks where a lad would find a peculiar spectral girl hunched over a piano, dressed in a white flowing nightgown. The guy would automatically become agog, smitten and stocked with a trillion questions, but she'd be cryptic and possibly lead him astray. Stiles had seen – witnessed too much – of the supernatural to find any of this remotely endearing.

What he _did_ find endearing was not finding a damsel in distress. He found Ava – sitting like a goddess, manipulating a violin he couldn't dare play. She sat facing a window, impersonating a symphony that sounded like a less harsh version of death. _Endearing times ten._

"I would say that was beautiful," He said, striding towards her. "But when it comes to you, pulchritude doesn't do you enough justice."

Ava halted midplay and glanced up with the bow in her hand. She chuckled when she saw the boy in his most expected position. Head angled with fervent, hands in his pockets, eyes squinted like he discovered hidden jewels. "Has anyone ever told you you're much too modest?"

"Once or twice." He stopped a few feet away with a bountiful look. "Maybe ten times, but who's counting?"

"I see, and have you taken a job with our government for foreign espionage?" She watched him take a seat opposite her, putting his belongings on the ground. "Or do you just like spying on me?"

"My skills are way outta their league." He shrugged and they split a smile. "No uh, I heard this godly sound from down the hall and I had to come check it out. Never heard something so marvelous in a long time, but seriously, where'd you learn to play like that?"

"I'm self-taught." She assumed her answer sufficed, but when hit with an appointed goggle, she branched off into detail. "Last year, I went to a great musical tribute. The last performer of the night was the first violinist to play, and as soon as she started playing, I was... _wowed_. I felt like the music spoke to me, you know? And I thought to myself, _what would it be like to experience that,_ that raw sensual emotion? Ever since then, I became passionate about it, and took it upon myself to learn." Ava joggled out of a daydream she couldn't even remember entering. "I um, I actually meet with a private instructor every two weeks."

Having clung to every word in astonishment, Stiles nodded. "I – I'd love to hear you play."

The teen's pupils dilated. She shook her head and pushed the violin away. "I can't possibly. I still have a lot of runs to go through and I don't think I'm–."

"Don't." Stiles firmly opined. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. I don't ever, in the history of all that's wrong with Illuminati believers, ever, _ever_ , wanna hear you say you're not good enough to play. Cause that's not true."

Ava lucklessly brawled the simper that clawed through her face. "I was _going_ to say I haven't learned the ending yet, but..." She shyly bit her upper lip. "Thanks."

"Oh. I knew that! I _totally_ knew you were going to say that." He felt a bijou of discomposure and pointed to the violin. "P-Please play so I could stop talking and making a fool out of myself."

Ava squeezed her lips shut and veiled her elated leer. She brought the violin closer to her and caught a breath. She wasn't hesitant or diffident, just unusually shy.

 _'Life is a waterfall; we're one in the river and one again after the fall.'  
_ _Swimming through the void, we hear the word.  
_ _We lose ourselves, but we find it all...'_

Stiles' mouth unconditionally fell into a small "o" shape when he heard Ava sing. She had talent. Raw talent. A wave of warmth, shock, and delight fell on to him all at once. Somehow, he felt weirdly empowered hearing her play. It was like she unlocked a secret of her past and shared it with him. He watched her play the very large contrivance with arcane powers. Her moves weren't calculated, they were just pure, unrehearsed. The violin itself was beautiful. It was one of a kind. The black instrument sat barren on the smooth floor. Four gold strings ran from a tailpiece to the base. There was a convoluted carved wooden bridge. The belly, the sound post, and the bass bar were made of spruce, a light but strong softwood.

 _'Cause we are the ones that want to play  
_ _always want to go,  
_ _but you never want to stay.  
_ _Aerials, in the sky,  
_ _when you lose small mind  
_ _you free your life.'_

If anyone wanted Stiles to produce salt water from his caramel colored orbs and on to the contours of his cheek, now was the time to dare him. _He'd cry._

 _'Aerials, so up high  
_ _when you free your eyes eternal prize.'_

The melody became adagio before its end. There were a few long minutes of unremitting quietness, but after struggling to uncurl his toes and purge the Goosebumps all over his body, he piped up.

"You. That. That was – uh, it – it was.."

"Soppy? Lame? Tedious?"

"No. No no no! That was divine! _You_ were divine.."

Ava brushed a few strands of hair behind her ears and looked down to shroud her blush. "Thank you."

"No biggy, really." He tried to flush his own blush with a manly cough.

Once again forgetting the world around them, they stared at each other. The thought of what they would do if they were suddenly interrupted hadn't crossed their mind. Why would it? The generation was scared away from this wing, so who would feasibly see them? The girl who was a Hale by birth that's who. There stood Malia, spleen and offense carved across her face. What the hell was this? _What the actual fucking hell was this?_ A smirking Ava and a smug Stiles? _Her Stiles_ who made her see she didn't have to go through her human life alone. The boy who broke through her wall of defense and guards, and busted his butt to help her gain reality of all things she couldn't. The one she _weirdly_ saw a future with? It took everything within Malia not to storm through the door and bash that little blonde bitch's head in. _It was Ava's fault, and she had to pay._ Malia quickly rotated and pressed her back against the white brick walls of the hallway – thoughts, and conclusions wild and not intact. She had a plan and the perfect person to help her execute it just ran into her.

"Well well, Tate, what a lovely surprise."

Malia studied the interest that gleamed in the individual's eyes. "You knew I'd come." The character nodded. "I need a favor." Her impulsive bluntness was as somber as her temper. "And you're the only one that can help me."

The dependent and the coyote who were supposed to be enemies had now officially become acquaintances. Their unheartly smirks and dangerous stares only meant one thing. An alliance had been formed.

...

The day had ended and Ava stood by her locker, organizing her things. After spending the rest of lunch talking and laughing with Stiles, the residue of her day had been uneventful. She had just closed her compartment when she turned to find someone standing right behind her.

"Shit!" She cursed and rubbed her chest.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? Lydia, you scared the living crap out of me! I almost had a heart attack."

"Can you have one later? We're late."

"Late?" Ava couldn't get another word out when her friend snatched her and wrenched her down the hallway. She wrestled to keep up on their detour of twists and jolts.

"Um, Lyds, where are we going?"

"Don't talk just walk."

Deciding it was better to excel at the latter, the two trekked through the gym. They exited from the side door and found themselves climbing the flight of bleacher steps.

"A lacrosse game?" They lowered themselves into the best seats and got cozy. "Why are we the only ones here?" Ava slanted against the stand behind her. She wagged her feet into a space below.

"It's practice. Why give up a chance to see hot sweaty muscular bodies running around on the field?"

Ava radiated and descried the field down below. Lydia turned away so she wouldn't neglect her incoming incessant text messages. She looked up with a smile after a moment. "What are you wearing on Saturday?" Lydia asked, unexpectedly.

"Clothes? Maybe a shower curtain if my laundry is dirty? Why? Wanna hire me a stylist?"

"No." Lydia quipped. "I just need to know if we're color coordinating or not."

"For what, exactly?"

"The party I'm throwing."

"You're having a party?"

"Duh, we've just established that." Lydia sassed and tossed her hair behind her shoulders. "What time are we going shopping?" Ava perked up at the unforeseen information, but this had no effect on Lydia. "The first VIP-luxurious party of the year is _always_ thrown by yours truly. So as my hostess _and_ best friend, you need to dress to impress."

"What?!" Ava's riposte was Polaroid worthy.

"Don't be so dramatic."

"Dramatic? Oh, I'm on a mission to get an Oscar for my supposed role. Don't stop me now." Ava swiftly reckoned then let out a timid and stumped laugh. "I can't believe this. I've been ambushed into being a hostess for a party that's orchestrated by you. Thanks for that." Lydia nodded without a care. "Just out of avidness, because you know, my own curiosity is peaked as to why you'd say something like that – but who do you think I'd be dressing to impress for?"

Just then, two bodies from the bottom of the bleachers high-tailed it out onto the field. It was the captain and his best friend. Scott kept running until he caught up with the rest of the team, but Stiles, who was on his trail suddenly stopped and turned around. His eyes elevated to the girls and when he saw them, he was thrilled. He quickly waved to Lydia before donning his best candid smile and waving to Ava.

Lydia fake pondered and made her coy smirk known. "You have your answer."

Ava looked at Lydia like she was deranged, then muted and unmuted herself, she muttered. "What?"

"Don't _what_ my what."

"How? What are you-, where is this even coming from?!" She negotiated in a turmoil tone. "I mean. I don't even, h-he's taken. He's in a relationship! We're..."

"Just friends?" Lydia concluded, enjoying the charade show. She rejected Ava's nod. "You don't see it do you?"

"See _what_?"

"The longing stares, the genuine smiles, the nervous stutters? For Christ's sake, he just waved to you."

"He waved to you too, even before me, might I add!"

"You got a huge toothy smile."

"So?!"

" _So.._!" She drawled. "All I'm saying is things aren't so great with the _bae_." She air quoted.

"The bae," Ava relayed in nihilism. "The bae? Really?"

"What? It's the 21st century, internet slang is everything."

"Look, I don't know what you see or what you think you see, because what you're insinuating isn't.." She was at a lost for words when Stiles was still standing there – after all, this time – waiting for her to return his wave. _It'd help so much if he turned around and left so she could prove her point, but he didn't._ "Can we _please_ not talk about this anymore?" She stressed, finally finding the courage to wave back to him. He grinned and spun around, running towards the field. "We're friends." She vocalized quietly. "Just friends."

"You sure about that?" Lydia shot Ava a pointed glare and inflated a perfect glamorized eyebrow.

Ava fidgeted, hating the overwrought that poured into her veins. Boy was she rapturous when the subject feverishly dropped like hot potato, even if it was for a short time. Ava wasn't stupid – she knew Lydia wasn't done with the topic. The Martin-chick didn't drop anything without a fight. In fact, she had an overgrip with things she claimed that were her _sixth sense_ – clothes, makeup, and mathematics? It all sounded good. Except when it came to the dramatic wonders – hers – and piece togethers of people's – hers again – personal lives. That sense required a whole other category of its own. As the post lights dimmed, the coach's whistle sounded throughout the dense evening air, and before galloping away like the rest of the team, Stiles looked up at Ava one last time and winked.


End file.
